Paradigm
by redsquidz
Summary: Amidst a struggling Muggle economy, two children are delivered questionable letters by a woman with a pointy hat and broomstick. Could there really be an entire Magical world, just out of sight, offering a chance at another life? Or do the same mechanisms that steer the Muggle world remain, regardless of wherever you go?
1. Mandy

This fanfic is based on works by J.K. Rowling.

* * *

 _Paradigm_

* * *

It was mid-afternoon in late July, and the sun beat down on a long, winding road leading out from London. In all regards, this road was really quite ordinary. You could see fields of wheat, pastures dotted with livestock, orchards stuffed with fruit trees and mice. In the mornings, people took it on their commutes to work, busses rumbled along shepherding off kids to schools, delivery trucks came and went with fresh stocks of milk or eggs. Yes, most days, you'd see exactly what you'd expect, and nothing particularly remarkable ever happened along its length. And there were some people - there always were, of course, wherever you went - who preferred it that way, and would just assume nothing odd ever happened at all. Unfortunately for them, and better or worse for everyone else, there were days every now and then where something unordinary _did_ happen. Today was one of them.

There was a traveller coming along the road - tracing its curves, dropping and rising as it went over the land, whizzing past the farmlands and fallow fields - who, if considering the simple act of their travelling, might not have been that unusual. But because of who this traveller _was_ , and exactly _how_ they were going about it, they were undoubtedly one of the strangest things that had come along the road in quite some time.

What made them unusual was three things: firstly, they were going quite a bit faster than the allotted speed limit (and taking absolutely no notice of the matter); secondly, they had very little idea of where they were, and thirdly; they weren't even watching the road ahead of them. Of course, it would do well to mention that they were thirty feet up in the air, flying on a magical broomstick, and completely invisible.

This traveller's name was Alice McDonnell, and she was a professional witch. Now, if you're picturing a "witch" as someone hunched over in a swampy hut, covered in warts, cackling as they dropped eyeballs and spiders and other gruesome things into a bubbling cauldron, you might be right half the time. However, this was about as far from a description of Alice McDonnell as you could get. She was young, proper, and if you swapped out her pointy hat and broomstick for a briefcase and professor's uniform, she would seem perfectly at place in any ordinary school wherever you went. And as for her profession? Well, it happened to _be_ professoring… only the school she taught at was anything but ordinary. She taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one of the most ancient and magical schools in all the world, which had survived three terrifying wars in the last two centuries, and much more impressively, generation after generation of hormonal teenagers. Alice was very familiar with this world, and outside of the occasional venture amongst the non-magical people of Britain, she had lived in it her entire life. Which was one of the reasons why she was so lost right now.

This year, she was tasked with letter delivery. It had been almost been two weeks now, and she was dreadfully behind the schedule she'd set for herself. In her defense, this was the first time she'd ever done it, and she really could be doing a lot worse - so she liked to tell herself. In reality, she was getting a wee-bit frustrated (not that she'd ever show it), and the worst part was, even though this was nearly the last letter she'd be delivering, she was still trying to figure out the new Muggle postal system. Mailboxes used to strictly be an American thing, but here they were in Britain, complete with numerical house codes and an alternating counting system that swapped sides of the street whenever you least expected it. She kept thinking she had it figured out, then lost track of it again and had to re-orient herself. In fact, by the time she realized she was at the one she wanted, she'd completely overshot it.

"Whoops!" she cried, heaving at the handle of her broomstick.

The wooden shaft shuddered as she performed a wide arc in the air and whizzed back the way she'd come. Below, the papery tops of the fruit trees zipped by, and she was tempted (as always) to dip herself down and let them brush against the tips of her boots. However, the next second she was over the driveway, and she was back in business-mode. She dropped below the tree-line, swung a leg up to sit sideways on her broom, then hit the ground at a run, whipping out her wand to end her invisibility charm.

Dogs exploded into barking as she shot out from the trees.

"Hey, doggos!" she called, plodding to a stop.

Immediately, she was bulled into by a border-collie and a chocolate lab, who lept at her hands and face to cover her in dog-licks.

"Hey, hey!" she laughed, scratching behind their ears and patting their sides. The dogs were obviously very enthused, and she was glad they were the friendly sort. No sooner had she thought it, however, than the lab made a lunge for the handle of her broomstick, which she quickly hoisted it out of its reach.

Just then, the door to the house banged open.

"Badger! Roady! Get down!" shouted a woman, marching toward them across the yard. She was squat, stern, and had frizzy, graying hair.

"Oh, it's alright, I don't mind!" Alice called, as the dogs continued squirming about her legs.

"Get _down_ , I said!" scolded the woman, coming up and dragging them away by their collars. "Stay! _Stay._ "

They paused, as though considering whether or not to obey orders.

"C'mon, let's get you inside," said the woman. "You're a bit early, but my husband should be home with the kids any minute."

They entered the house, which was thankfully a lot cooler than outside. It was fairly typical for a Muggle home: the windows were in need of a bit of a scrub and there was the slight scent of damp in the air, but the furniture was tidy and the counters were clean. Off to the right it opened up into a living room, where a small, pie-shaped machine as whirring around collecting dust from between the couch and sitting chairs.

"Sorry about them," the woman said. "They always get excited for visitors! Don't know what we'd do if someone tried to burglarize us. Let me get you a towel - there's a sink in the bathroom if you'd like to wash up, but the one in the kitchen's out of order."

"Oh, it's no trouble," Alice said. She set her broom gingerly against the wall and pulled out her wand, directing it at herself.

" _Limpio_."

In an instant, the dog saliva vanished from her gloves, the dust disappeared off the skirt of her robes, and the sticky-sweat feeling evaporated from her skin. She was left feeling freshly washed and her clothes newly laundered.

The woman stared at her, eyebrows arched.

"I have _got_ to learn how to do that."

Alice smiled and extended a hand. "I'm Professor McDonnell by the way, but call me Alice if you like. And you're Mrs. Zuwaldt, I presume?"

"Mrs. O'Leary now, actually. And Mandy will do just fine."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mandy."

They shook hands. Mandy led her into the kitchen, giving her a seat at the table, where Alice pulled her long, sweaty riding gloves off to let her skin breathe. She put these and her hat on the kitchen table, her hat sticking upright and rivaling the dried flowers there in height. She sighed contentedly - it was a relief to be sitting after the ride out from London.

"Can I get you some water?" Mandy asked, as Alice set her satchel on the floor. "Lemonade? I'd offer you tea, but it's a bit hot for that."

"Oh man, too hot for tea!"

Mandy let out a bark of laughter.

"Yes, water would be lovely, thank you," said Alice.

Mandy fetched a glass from the cupboard and filled it from a robot-pitcher in the fridge, then set it before Alice. There was the slight smell of chlorine, but she drank it nonetheless.

"So, here to take another one of my children off to school?" said Mandy, sitting across from her.

"Only to deliver the letter!" Alice laughed. "And answer any questions."

"Right. You know, I can't thank you people enough for taking in Douglas. He sends a letter home every so often and really seems to be enjoying himself. He's even gotten an intern position at your Ministry."

"An intern position? That's great to hear! What department?"

"Business, I think."

"And he's still at Hogwarts?"

"Right. This will be his seventh year."

"He sounds quite ambitious!"

"Yes, well, I think part of it is he feels bad for having us put him through his classes. 'Nonsense,' I say, 'it's a parent's job to see their child has a proper education!' but he knows we don't have much to go on. He's already mentioned a few times about sending some money our way (once he has enough to make a living for himself, that is), and I tell him not to worry, but I know he still does."

"Put him through?" asked Alice, concerned.

"Right. But it's all worked out, as far as I can see! But even still, it wasn't easy for him in the early years. Being from a normal family and all that. Or, sorry... non-magical?"

"It's quite alright."

"On his first winter and summer break I felt a lot of resentment from him," Mandy went on, frowning. "I worry that he got teased a lot. But it's good to see he's come around. Hopefully it won't be as bad on Ray, if she's able to go."

"If she's able to go?" Alice caught, concern growing. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way things are looking, I don't know if we'll be able to put her all the way through -" ( _there it is again!_ ). "I have a bit saved up, perhaps enough for the first year, but beyond that - I'm not so sure. We're hardly able to support Douglas, you see, and with the economy being what it is - not to mention the loans we've taken out for the farm, and the Child Tax -"

These were things Alice had heard before. Finances were becoming more and more of a concern for Muggles.

"I'm curious, what do you mean by putting them through?"

"Paying for their tuition, of course," said Mandy.

That made alarm bells go off. Digging into her satchel, Above produced a number of pamphlets.

"I'm so glad you mentioned something. I'd thought that with your eldest might have already gotten things taken care of, but that seems not to be the case. These pamphlets have some information regarding organizations that provide assistance for underprivileged families, including the Ministry-sponsored Muggle-born Assistance Program that helps out with tuition. This other organization, additionally - The Potter Foundation - has provided over six _billion_ galleons in the last few decades alone, for equipment and supplies! That's nearly forty billion pounds, I think!"

Mandy leaned toward the pamphlets, eyes rapt with attention.

"I wasn't aware there were options," she said.

Alice frowned. "There certainly are! With your children being from a Muggle family, they definitely qualify for M.A.P. and have a good chance at the other equal opportunity programs. I wouldn't be surprised if you were able to get your daughter's entire schooling covered. And, as I mentioned, there are grants and scholarships that can be applied for at any time."

Mandy was focused on the pamphlets, and without hesitation Alice pushed them over. They were designed to be Muggle-friendly, with easy-to-read instructions and non-moving pictures.

"I'm quite surprised, and concerned, that you weren't told of them before," said Alice.

"Yes, these would have been good for Douglas... but there's no sense crying over spilt milk. What's important is we know about them now."

"I'm still terribly sorry," she said. "It's been a point of focus among the faculty to help inform Muggle-based families... but I suppose some of the older staff can be forgetful. Was that Professor Byron who came last time?"

"I'm not sure, it was so many years ago."

"He's a squat, portly man, with a mustache... he heads one of the houses, Slytherin..."

"Oh, it might have been. But it's all out with the wash. Thanks for these!"

"Yes, of course... we wouldn't want Ray to miss out on Hogwarts! It's the experience of a lifetime, I guarantee you, there isn't a person I know that doesn't look back on it with the utmost fondness."

"Right. I'm sure. I know she's been trying not to get her hopes up, but after hearing all of Douglas's stories, and discovering she was - you know, like him - I know her heart's been set on it. And with these," she tapped the pamphlets, "things might just go her way."

"I'm certain they will! They really do try to make it accessible, and there are advisers you can talk to if you need assistance with the quillwork."

"That might be good. But I'll have to talk to Douglas about it, he might know his way around well enough."

"Oh, quite right, brilliant idea."

Alice paused and studied Mandy, who was busy reading.

"If finances are a concern," she went on, "there's ways to help out with equipment and books at school, too. Some of the professors carry old texts she can borrow for the year, and I, personally, always have a store of materials on hand for just such instances. And we've got a full library, the biggest archive in magical Britain, outside of the Ministry, perhaps... does Douglas have any old things she can have?"

Mandy sat back in her chair, looking considerably more relaxed.

"There isn't much," she said, "I think I still have his first-year robes and a few other things, but we returned most of them as we went along to help pay for the next year's."

"I understand," said Alice. She couldn't believe Professor Byron. "Well, I'm certain things will come together, one way or another. When Ray arrives, are you okay with me giving her the letter?"

Mandy was silent for a moment, then sighed and looked out the kitchen window.

"I suppose it's best to decide now, as you're here and everything. I've been putting off the decision long enough. It'll be tough not having her around to help, but with the automation out there nowadays it won't be too bad."

"Automation?" Alice asked.

"Yes, the contractors are always trying to get me to rent out their machines... our neighbors already have those drones for sowing and weeding, and then there's the automated feeders... I suppose it's time we followed suit. You've got to keep up, you know, even if you're putting more and more of your livelihood in their hands."

"Sorry... I'm not sure I'm following," she said. "Are you talking about robots?"

Mandy gave a tired smile.

"Yes. Don't you worry. They aren't things I much like to talk about, anyways. So! Ray going off to magic school... yes, I suppose I shouldn't keep her from getting her letter."

Alice's face burst into a smile.

"It's the best thing for her, I can promise you that. She'll be so happy!"

"Oh, I know she will."

They chatted for a little while as they waited. Alice went into full detail concerning the food, medicinal, and housing systems, and soon enough the dogs out front exploded into barking again.

"They must be home!" said Mandy.

Sure enough, a truck was pulling into the driveway. It rumbled into its parking spot, powered off, and the doors popped open. Two kids came clambering out - one a girl with short, curly brown hair, and the other a boy, looking about half her age. Both were instantly piled on by the dogs. Stepping out from the other side was a man, presumably Mandy's husband. He was a bit unshaven, wore a stained shirt, and had hair that was in need of a trim.

"Badger! Roady!" he barked.

The dogs backed off, then moved in again a bit more gently with their tails still wagging at full speed. The three made their way to the house, children at the lead, and the dogs managed to squeeze in as they entered. As the kids busied themselves clambering out of their shoes Alice remembered her witch hat and stuck it on her head for appearances.

"Welcome home!" said Mandy.

"Hey Mum!" said the two kids in unison, along with a "Hello!" from the man. "Nice, er, broom," he said to Alice, spotting it against the wall.

"Thanks! I'm Professor Alice McDonnell," she said, and stuck out a hand.

"Good to meet you, Professor McDonnell," the man repeated, shaking her hand. Alice couldn't help but notice him take in her outfit, but she'd been expecting that. It wasn't every day you saw a witch, after all.

"Sorry if I'm a bit gross, he said. "Just off of work. My name's Frank."

"Nice to meet you, Frank."

Frank went over to Mandy and gave her a peck on the lips.

"Did you talk about the...?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes, yes, and they have the most wonderful assistance programs," she said, voice hushed. "I'll tell you all about it later!"

Alice's attention turned to the girl, who had came up to her, thumbs tucked under her backpack straps. Her eyes were wife and searching.

"Are you a real witch?" she asked.

" _Sweetie_ , that's rude," scolded Mandy.

"No, it's okay," said Alice.

She squatted down to the girl's height and gave her a smile.

"You must be Ray!"

Ray nodded, brown curls bouncing.

"It's wonderful to meet you. I'm Professor McDonnell, and yes, I'm a _real witch._ "

The girl's eyes widened.

"And am I a witch too?"

"Yes, you are."

"YES!" she screamed, bursting into joy and taking off down the hallway. The dogs barked excitedly and ran after her. "YES! YES! YES!"

The girl reappeared a moment later, dogs shoving at her with their noses.

"Can you do some magic?!" she asked.

All at once, everyone looked at her. The dogs continued to whine, watching the girl and smacking the walls with their tails.

"Of course!" Alice said, taking stock of her surroundings. "That's what I'm here for. If it's alright?"

Both Mandy and Frank nodded, with the visible hesitancy older Muggles got when magic came up.

"I'd be interested to see it with my own eyes," said Frank.

Spotting the flower vase, she pulled her wand from her robes - twelve and a half inches, oak, dragon heartstring, cherry varnish. All eyes followed it.

"Stand back!" she said, winking at Mandy and Frank. Their expressions didn't change.

Pointing at the dried flowers on the table, she made a few movements and said:

" _Augmenus!_ "

Like sponges soaking up water, the flowers swelled and bloomed. Color glowed out from their cores and flushed all the way to the edges of their petals, the stems hydrating and thickening, and a moment later the bunch returned to full health and color.

The girl laughed maniacally.

"Well, would you look at that," said Frank. "Think you could fix the sink while you're at it?"

"I don't see why not!" said Alice.

"Oh! I was only joking, but if you're willing…"

She went over to the sink and, after a moment's study, cast the _Reparo_ charm. A few clinking sounds came from the cupboard below, and Frank went in to give it a look. He stood and tested the water, watching both the basin and the pipes for a minute, then rested his hands on his hips.

"Well how about that! I think you just saved me an afternoon's work!"

"My pleasure. Now, I think I have a delivery to make!"

Mandy and Frank made room, and Alice went to her satchel to find Ray's letter. Grabbing it out, she spun around to face her, hiding it behind her back.

"Ray," she said. "I have something very important to give you."

The girl's eyes widened again, and she came up to her. Alice pulled the letter into view.

"This is your acceptance letter to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said. "It has the list of things you'll need for your classes, and instructions on how to prepare. It is very important you don't lose it, okay?"

"Okay."

Ray took the letter, completely entranced by the thick, yellow parchment, the red wax seal, and the bulk of the papers it contained. On the front was written in quick, sapphire-blue ink:

 _Ms. R. Zuwaldt_

 _The Double Bedroom_

 _5582 Westford Rd._

 _Dorset_

Alice couldn't help but smile as Ray marveled at her invitation to the magical world. This was the moment children from half-families dreamed of - the moment they worried deep in their hearts would never come, that it wasn't real, but here it was, happening.

She spent another hour going over the ins and outs of magical Britain with Mandy and Frank, and checked that Douglas would be up to the task of taking Ray through her school preparations. Mandy assured her that he was, then asked a lot of questions, capitalizing on the chance to learn about the magical world. As they talked, Alice kept glancing into the living room at Ray and the little boy, who had sprawled themselves on the floor. Each page of the acceptance letter was carefully laid out side-by-side so Ray could look at them all at once, and her was brother was sat back on his haunches, watching her read them over again and again, probably wondering what the excitement was all about.

As supper time drew near, Alice worked her way to excusing herself and stood from the table. She gave Mandy and Frank a number to call (telling them the same was listed in Ray's letter) if they had any questions, then pulled on her gloves and hoisted up her satchel. She backed her way through the doorway, followed excitedly by the dogs, and once out in the driveway, mounted her broom and waved to the family.

"Bye!" she called.

"Goodbye!" said Frank and Ray, the dogs barking at their sides.

"Thank you!" said Mandy.

"Of course! See you at Hogwarts, Ray!"

Her face was absolutely beaming.

Alice took out her wand, cast her invisibility charm (the family went "Ooo" as she vanished), then kicked off, rising up into the evening sun. She went back to the road, wind billowing around her, and looked down at the blue lights of the Muggle homes, thinking of the families in them and what kind of lives they must live. The sight gave her an odd feeling - one of mixed pity, perhaps, but one of great affection too. Families were families, whether they were magical or not. She was glad to be spending the night with her own before delivering her last letter tomorrow.

The thought ate away her mood. This last family was different from all the others, if her experiences so far had told her anything. But that was for tomorrow, she told herself, and she shook the thoughts away, trying to ignore them and the creeping anxiety they brought. Tonight, all she had to worry about was getting through some of her professor's work. That wasn't a bad thing at all, particularly if she did it at a pub in Diagon Alley.


	2. Alice

Alice's eyes snapped open at the sound of her writer's pages ruffling. Suddenly awake, she made a mad scramble to slam it shut again before the Alarm Page began hooting at her. It wouldn't have been as bad if it was an owl hoot, like she'd been expecting when she bought the page, but that's what you got for not double-checking a Weasley product... she'd boughten _monkey_ instead. They offered free trade-outs, of course, but she kept forgetting to stop by one of their branches.

Not wanting to fall asleep again, Alice took a deep breath and sat up on the edge of her bed - today she would finally be delivering her last letter. She'd already tried to meet with the Muggle family _three times_ , as crazy as that sounded, and this fourth try would hopefully get her all the way through. The first time she'd been turned away by a rather cold doorman, who instructed her to schedule an _appointment_ of all things. After going and doing that, it turned out it wasn't to meet with the family at all, but only to be screened in what felt like an interview. She'd almost been turned away from that, too - after all, you couldn't just go around prattling off the secrets of the magical world to some random Muggle.

What had landed her a _second_ meeting was her shouting (as she was being escorted through the door by a rather large man) that the child - Nathaniel Zoldik - was unusually gifted, and that she had a letter of acceptance for him to a very special school..

The interviewer's tone had gone from annoyed to sharp in an instant.

"What do you know about Nathaniel?"

"Not much, personally," Alice said, "but the - er, people I work for - are aware of his talents, and have seen fit to accept him as a student!"

The interviewer took a breath.

"Miss...?"

"Professor McDonnell."

He laced his fingers. "Miss McDonnell... I should tell you that your comment just now has me strongly considering reporting both you and this _organization_ you work for to the police. As you may very well know, Nathaniel's educational records are not authorized for public release, and any possession of them would be a violation of his personal and intellectual property rights."

Alice, still being crowded by the large Muggle, wasn't sure what to say.

"I would also very much like to know the identity of the organization you work for," he continued, "as to perform a thorough background check."

"Oh, sorry," she said, "but I'm not allowed to say much outside of Nathaniel's immediate family. But rest assured, there is nothing worrisome going on! The school I represent is concerned solely with education, and the development of... er, a _gifted_ child's unique talents."

"Madam. You came to Mr. Zoldik's place of residence unannounced and unrecognized, seeking entrance, a matter which I should also like to investigate. You come to our meeting dressed..." he waved his hand around, searching for the right word - "casually, carrying a _broomstick_ and lacking _any_ form of identification. You state that you, or the educational institution you represent, possess delicate information concerning Nathaniel's personal records, and now you tell me that you are unable to disclose anything further over the matter? Quite frankly, the only reason you're still in this room is because you pose a potential threat to the Zoldik Family's privacy. Now, before you are _allowed to leave_ , I have a number of questions that you would do very well to answer to the best of your ability."

In that moment, Alice understood the views some people had regarding Muggles.

"Sir, I would love to cooperate, but as I've already said, there is only so much I can tell you. I am simply here to deliver Nathaniel his acceptance letter, and to answer any questions his parents might have. The educational institution I represent has nothing but his best interests at heart, I promise you!"

"Miss McDonnell, it is not up to you to decide what Nathaniel's best interests are."

"Oh, yes - of course, I'm sorry. I meant no offense."

The man said nothing.

"If it truly is impossible to see Nathaniel's family right now," she continued, "I could ask a representative from our ministry to accompany me. With them present, I might be allowed to say more."

"... _Your_ ministry?"

Alice was starting to panic. When had things suddenly gotten so complicated? The large Muggle behind her was much too close, the man was being _extraordinarily_ difficult and only assuming the worst things, and now she'd said more than she should have.

"Please, let's arrange another meeting! I'll do what I can to bring a representative with me next time, and with them here I will try to answer more of your questions!"

As if by magic (and, afterward, Alice wondered if she truly _did_ use some magic), the man's face relaxed, and he agreed to another meeting in two days' time.

She fled from the building in relief. _How had couple of Muggles managed to put her in such a state?_ Taking out her writer, she quickly scrawled a few messages - the first was to her friend Maves Barnes, who was the head of the Muggle Relations Department, asking if he or anyone he knew was available to assist her in the next meeting. The second and third messages were to her romantic partner, a man by the name of Gregor Hollins, and to her friend and coworker Wendy Figg, a low-level Care of Magical Creatures instructor, both concerning her frustrations with the Zoldik Family so far.

Fortunately, Maves happened to have someone available. In two days' time Alice returned to the meeting place - a small, gray building in the business district of London - with a young man by the name of Eric Stynes, who was a recent hire in Maves's department.

 _You weren't kidding about him being young!_ Alice scrawled, when she and Eric were in-line for coffee.

 _Trust me,_ Maves wrote back, his neat penmanship appearing on the page just below her own, _he may be a new hire, but he's definitely capable._

As it turned out, he was right. Eric handled the interview extremely well, not only getting the Muggle interviewer and security guard to sign an agreement to have all records of their meeting purged, but had come extraordinarily well-prepared. He was dressed in a suit similar to theirs, spoke in a vocabulary similar to their own, and was clearly informed about all the odd little Muggle rules they had set up for themselves when conducting business matters.

Within the span of a two hours he was able to get the Muggles to call off the police task force that had been waiting in ambush, rendered the Muggles speechless with some very minor magical demonstrations, and had convinced them that Nathaniel was capable of doing magic himself.

"Has the young Mr. Zoldik never been involved in any strange circumstances?" Eric asked, pacing the room. "Were there never any times when seemingly inexplicable things would happen, in his presence?"

The interviewer and security guard shared a glance at that.

A short time later (once a call was made and a meeting arranged), the interviewer and guard had their memories altered, and Alice and Eric were leaving the small, gray office building once more.

"I must say, that memory charm really caught me by surprise," she said.

"Handy, isn't it?" he responded. "It's a new one, too, from our friends in the States. Just a red flash and not only are their memories wiped, but their minds fill in the blank with the most believable explanation they can come up with!"

"I meant the suddenness of it... wouldn't it have been fair to, you know, warn them first?"

"Well..." he said, expression quizzical, "they _did_ agree to have all records of the meeting purged, after all. And besides, they're only Muggles, really."

She stared at him.

"Er, sorry," he mumbled, his confident demeanor dropping - "I was just joking. Honest."

"Hmm..."

"Should we, er, exchange tabs? Until the meeting?" He asked.

"Yes, I suppose that'd be for the best."

Each of them peeled a sticky-tab from the pads at the back of their writers and exchanged them. She attached his green one to the top of a new page, leaving just enough sticking out for visibility when the writer closed, and he did the same with her blue tab. Next to her old, leather-bound writer, his sleek, black, moleskine one looked infinitely more professional.

"What edition is that?" she asked, trying to end things on a friendly note.

"It's the Scribe Eclipse," he said proudly. "Standard issue in the Ministry. You can add up to two hundred contacts with ten pages each, and it's able to recognize when you're done so it doesn't send a message off prematurely. There's even a two-way mirror under the front cover!"

Her eyebrows raised. "Sounds expensive."

"Yes, but most would say that it's worth it. So, the meeting's at four o'clock?"

"Yeah."

They both scribbled down a reminder on their Calendar Pages.

"Great! I'll write you beforehand so we can prepare for the meeting," Eric said.

"Sounds good."

"Until then!"

He vanished from beside her with a loud pop, leaving her alone on the sidewalk.

Alice spent the rest of the day flying around London, invisible, on her broomstick. She actually ended up paying the Ministry a visit at one point, but only to look up a few records on Ray's family history. That evening, she stopped by the Witch's Brew to catch up on some reading before returning to her parents' house, and the next day delivered Ray her letter. Now here she was, waking up on the day of the meeting.


	3. Alice (Part 2)

She yawned, stretched, and sniffed the air: someone downstairs was cooking breakfast sausages! Normally she liked to blast herself awake with a shower, but if her parents were wanting to have a family breakfast she couldn't just un-cozy herself, could she?

Alice picked up her satchel, rested it on her lap, and rummaged through it for a t-shirt. She pushed aside the pocket containing all her school stuff and went down toward the bottom - down, and down, until her whole arm was inside the bag, even though it should have only gone halfway at most looking at it from outside - then found one she was happy with. It was one she'd worn already on two occasions, but only briefly. Perfect for a breakfast!

A moment later, she came down the stairs and entered the kitchen.

"Morning, Alice!" Said her father, poking around some sausages with a spatula. A salt shaker bobbed in the air next to him by the pan.

"Morning, Dad!"

"Good morning, sweetheart!" Said her mother, stopping in the setting of the table to came over and give her a hug. All the plates and silverware slowed to a standstill mid-flight, unsure of what to do with themselves now that their conductor was gone.

"Oh, it's good to see you!" She said, arms wrapping around her.

"Good to see you too, Mum. How was Auntie's?"

"It was good!" She said, waving her wand at the dishes again. "The swelling in her foot's gone down quite a lot!"

"That's great to hear!"

"What time did you come back in last night, honey?" Her father asked.

"I think a little after midnight. I would have left sooner, but the bar had a jazz band going, and they were really good."

"Ooo, you know how I love jazz! Was it Pop Moon?"

"I think it was the Frog Dragons."

"The Somber Dragons?"

"That's the one!"

"I've heard them a few times. Their bassist is really talented."

They chatted for a while about little things, Alice jumping in to help make the pancakes, then all caught up with each other once they sat down. Her father had taken the morning off of work so they could have a family breakfast, and each of them went around the table going into detail over their jobs and coworkers and all the things that were happening in their lives. All the while, they filled themselves up with sausages, eggs, pancakes, and cantaloupe slices, and drank orange juice from a pitcher floating patiently around the table.

After a while, Alice stretched again, yawning. "Well, I better start getting ready," she said.

"You don't have to be anywhere till three o'clock, don't you?" asked her mother.

"I still need to have a wash and get all my things organized. Plus, I'd like to leave by two so I have time to get there."

"By two? But that leaves you a whole hour!"

Alice paused.

"...I'm going by broomstick, Mum."

"Oh - right. Sorry."

An awkward silence fell over the table.

Her father cleared his throat. "Say, Alice dear, how's that broomstick keeping up, anyways? You've had it for nearly five years now, haven't you?"

"Seven, I think, but it's still performing excellently. There's only the slightest tremor every now and then, and practically no lean next to the other brooms of its model!"

"It's one of the Nimbus series, right?"

"Yep, a Nimbus Ranger!"

"Oh, honey, the Nimbus models are a bit out-dated, aren't they?" Her mother asked.

"They're still some of the most reliable models on the market. I'm quite happy with it."

"I do -" her father hesitated - "I do have a coworker, whose son isn't using their Cirrus anymore. Just something to consider! I'm not sure what model it is, but I think it's in pretty good condition."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind." She shifted her tone. "Well, thanks for the breakfast, guys! It was lovely."

"Of course, dearie," said her mother. "Always nice to have you visit."

"Yes, always good having you around," her father agreed.

Alice went up and showered, taking her time. The water felt nice after all the flying she'd been doing, and she massaged her shoulder, trying to relax. Eventually, however, the thoughts of the meeting crept in, and she turned off the water. Grabbing some towels and wrapping them around herself, she stepped out of the bathroom and went back to her room. The first thing she did was check her messages:

 _Almost there, Ally! Looking forward to seeing you later,_ wrote Gregory.

 _Good luck!_ wrote Wendy. _I borrowed one of your pepper-ups, by the way. Prowler's feeling a bit under the weather_ … (Prowler was one of her kneazles).

 _Good morning, Professor McDonnell_ , wrote Eric. _Just to confirm, I will be meeting you at the Ministry of Magic at 3pm. I took the liberty of reserving us a car to get to the Zoldik residence. If you have any clothing that is more suited for formal occasions, I suggest you wear it. See you then._

There was also one from Maves asking how everything was going, and after finding her ink-ready quill she scribbled out a response to each of them. After that, she got out three sets of clothes: her flying robes (which was her preference); her professor's uniform (which she wasn't quite ready to wear just yet); and the sharp, gray suit that she normally reserved for her freelancing. She knew Eric would recommend the suit, but was that really the first impression she wanted to give a child of the magical world? She considered going for her professor's uniform, but it wasn't the school year yet, and she strictly-speaking wasn't doing a professor's work. After a moment's hesitation, she went for the suit. After all, Eric seemed to be pretty familiar with this particular type of Muggle, and it was probably best to go by his suggestion after that first meeting.

Alice touched up her face and dressed, then grabbed her broom and headed out to the backyard. Her father had already gone off to work, but her mother was out tending the garden.

"My, you look quite professional, dear!" She called.

"Thanks, Mum. Have a nice summer!"

"You too, sweetie. Have a great school year! And feel free to write us anytime!"

"I will! Thanks!"

With that, Alice mounted her broom, re-upped the slipstream spell at the tip (a preventative measure to keep her clothes and hair from getting all windswept), then cast her invisibility charm and kicked off. She rose up over the suburbs and headed toward downtown London, feeling more than a little silly flying in a business suit, but at least she was invisible.

When she got to the Ministry of Magic, she saw Eric and a driver waiting by the entrance with a car ready to go. Instead of setting down, she kept past them and went into an under-construction building shell, where she dismounted and ended the invisibility charm in privacy.

She stood there for a minute, thinking of what to do with her broomstick. She looked at her satchel, hesitated, then opened it up, and began feeding her broom in by the handle. By a stroke of luck (and after a fair bit of jostling), she was able to get the entirety of it inside, although part of her was worried she'd squished the tail a bit.

Taking a deep breath, Alice walked out from the building. Her shoes tapped noisily on the sidewalk.

"Ah! Professor McDonnell," Eric said. If he was relieved at her wearing her suit, he hid it well. "I hope your afternoon's going well?"

"Good afternoon."

"Madam," greeted the driver.

They went first to a café, where they each got a coffee and went over the Zoldik Family history. The driver stayed in the car, reading a copy of the _Daily Prophet._

"This will be an interesting meeting," Eric said. "The records at the Ministry don't have a lot of information regarding the Zoldik lineage. Fortunately, I did a bit of background research using the Muggles' own archives."

"They have their own records?"

"Oh, certainly!" He laughed. "While it's true they don't have much in the way of hard-copies, there's an enormous amount of information stored on their computers. Unfortunately, not much has been publicized concerning Nathaniel, but I did find quite a bit of info regarding the rest of the family. It seems, from what I could piece together with the Ministry records, that magic has been dormant in their line for quite a few generations."

"Yes, I think I read somewhere that the last full-wizard was more than three generations ago. His father... works with metal, right?"

Eric nodded. "He's the chief executive officer of a Muggle steel firm. One of the biggest in Europe, as a matter of fact."

"Wow! That would explain their security measures."

"Yes, and it might make the job all the more difficult."

Whatever slight qualms she had toward him aside, Alice was impressed.

"Thank you so much for helping with all this," she said. "You've really done the research!"

"It's no trouble. You're friends with Mr. Barnes, right?"

Alice made the connection. "Oh, yes. I'll be sure to put in a good word for you."

"That would be very much appreciated," he said, smiling.

Ten minutes later, they were on their way. While in the car, Eric got Alice to use an illusion charm on her satchel, giving it the appearance of a sleek briefcase with a thin, leather shoulder strap.

They arrived outside a large, foreboding gate at the end of the Zoldik's driveway at a quarter to four, and after speaking with a metal box nestled into one of the columns, the gate yawned open through the power of tiny, unseen, little Muggle mechanisms.

"Almost have their own magic now, don't they?" commented Eric.


	4. Nathaniel

The Zoldik's driveway was a pattern of gray, zig-zagging bricks, and was bordered by neatly trimmed hedges. Once outside the entrance of the manor the driveway looped back in on itself, forming a circle around a fountain, and as they pulled around it the doorman Alice had seen before gestured them to park along the edge. It was a wholly different experience than when she'd lowered herself in a few days ago: all the quirkiness was gone, and in its place sat the unmistakable presence of wealth and power.

"Good afternoon, sir and madam," the doorman said as they popped open their doors. Not a trace of recognition visible as he looked at her. "If you'll follow me, I will show you into the manor. Your car may be left here for the duration of your visit."

He made eye contact with the driver as he said this, who nodded in acknowledgement.

As they approached the house, the front doors opened to receive them. They entered a large lobby with granite floors, stormcloud-colored carpeting, and a massive, iron chandelier, the bulbs of which cast a soft, white light. Potted plants and chairs were set on either side of the entryway, with mirrors hung directly above them at eye-level. Ahead of them waited an impressive staircase, and on either side hallways branched out. A maid stood at the entrance to one of these, who waited there patiently.

"Mr. Zoldik is a busy man," the doorman intoned. "As you have arrived a bit early, you will need to wait here until he becomes available. At that time, one of the attendants will be along to take you the rest of the way. Can I offer either one of you a beverage?"

"I could use a glass of water," said Alice.

"I'm okay without," said Eric.

The doorman nodded to the maid, who departed down the hallway without a word.

"If you'll excuse me," said the doorman, "I'll be just outside, should either of you need anything."

He stepped backward through the entryway, and the doors eased themselves closed.

"You know, I'm actually quite impressed," said Eric, looking around. His voice nearly echoed in the room. "Can you imagine how long it must have taken for them to build this? Placing every stone, rolling out every carpet, painstakingly growing each potted plant over the course of years..."

"Yes, it's very impressive, though they do have their machines."

"That's true. All the same, though, it must be exhausting. Just... in an everyday sort of way."

A few moments passed. Then, the maid came back with a large glass of water on a tray.

"Your water, ma'am," she said.

"Oh, thank you!"

Alice sipped at the glass while Eric turned to his writer. The maid remained there as they waited, and Alice took to looking around and thinking of how all the different things might have been put together. She couldn't even guess at half of them - how were you supposed to color all the individual fibers on a carpet without magic? How do you make mirrors so smooth, or light bulbs so uniform? It really must have been an exhausting amount of work. Either that, or their machines were far more impressive than she could imagine.

A moment later, a large man appeared at the top of the stairs. He made his way down, taking each step at a time, and came to a stop before them.

"Mr. Stynes, Ms. McDonnell," he said, voice deep. "Mr. Zoldik will see you now."

"Your glass, ma'am?" Asked the maid.

"Oh - right." She downed the rest of her water, drinking the entirety of it in one go, then placed the glass on the tray and turned to follow. Both Eric and the man were looking at her with curious expressions on their faces.

"...Right this way," the man rumbled.

She and Eric followed the man up the stairwell, then turned left down another hallway. At the end of this was another pair of double-doors, which looked to be their destination. As they walked, Eric caught her eye and raised an eyebrow with a hint of amusement. Alice could guess what he was thinking: these Muggles really went in for the whole primitive, intimidating act.

The man opened the doors and let them inside, then closed them once they'd entered, remaining out in the hallway. They found themselves in front of another staircase: this one was much smaller, and as they went up these the room came into view.

It was an office, with a vaulted ceiling and a desk silhouetted against a massive, floor-to-ceiling window made entirely of frosted glass. Sitting at the desk was a man with neatly combed hair, which, despite the man appearing to be in his mid-forties, was pure white. On the man's left-hand side was another guard, just as impressive (if not even moreso) than the one that had brought them up.

Their stairway had emerged in the center of the floor. Wrapping around the office behind them were bookshelves, filing cabinets, and another window, all of which looked like they belonged more at the top of a high-rise office building than in a home.

"Ah, Mr. Stynes and Ms. McDonnell, I presume," said the man, standing and coming around his desk. He was tall, and there was a sharpness in his eyes that spoke of unmistakable intelligence. "I am Robert Zoldik - Nathaniel's father."

"Professor Alice McDonnell," Alice said, sticking out a hand. Mr. Zoldik shook it with a bemused expression on his face, then went and shook Eric's hand as well. Alice couldn't help but find herself slightly intimidated.

"Professor McDonnell," Mr. Zoldik mused, "the young woman who trespassed onto my property, wielding a broomstick and wearing a large, pointy hat. Not only have you managed to talk your way out of an arrest, but you've also managed to impress someone whose judgment I have held in high regard for nearly a decade. _And_ , you've arranged an in-person meeting with me and my family, all within the span of a week. Well, you certainly have my attention."

He looked from her to Eric.

"So, what brings the two of you to my home?"

Eric took a step backward and gestured back to Alice.

"Mr. Zoldik," she began, "I am a representative from one of the most prestigious secondary schools in the world, which has accepted Nathaniel for enrollment. I am here to deliver him his letter, and answer any questions you might have."

"Ah..." he said, some of the politeness falling out of his voice. "You're a recruiting agent."

He went around and stood in front of his windows, staring at the frosted glass. "Are you at all interested in knowing just how many acceptance letters I receive in a week?"

She hesitated, trying not to let herself get nervous.

"With... all due respect, Mr. Zoldik, I believe you might find this school to be of quite a different make than what you're used to."

He paused.

"Well, what's the name?" He asked.

"Hogwarts."

Behind her, Eric made a sound like she'd just dropped something expensive.

"Hog... warts?"

He chuckled, then turned around shaking his head. "Oh, goodness. This is a prank! Did Carl put you up to this? I swear, that man…"

"Please, sir, it's not a prank."

"Yes, thank you," he said, curtly. "I'm afraid I can't waste any more time on this. Reynolds!" He called, as if to the ceiling.

At the bottom of the stairway, the large man opened the door. Alice's heart raced.

"If you would follow Mr. Reynolds, he will escort you back to your car -"

"Wait! Please, Mr. Zoldik!" She said. "This is not a prank. Please, hear me out!"

At the desperation in her voice, Mr. Zoldik raised a hand. Reynolds, who was already halfway toward them up the stairway, paused in his tracks.

"You said you respected that... interviewer-man's judgment. Could you at least hear what I have to say?"

He sighed, then waved off Reynolds, who disappeared once more into the hallway.

"This school. _Hogwarts_. What is it, where is it, and why is it so special?"

She took a breath, then suddenly remembered the other guard - whoops. She'd forgotten he was there. Eric had probably already made a mental note to cast his memory-charm.

"Er, I'm sorry, sir, but I'm only authorized to speak in front of Nathaniel's immediate family. The school is very particular about its privacy."

Mr. Zoldik glanced at his guard, then looked back to her. "Really? Well. Hass is as good as family. He's a legal guardian of Nathaniel, and has been with me my whole life. You should find that sufficient."

She looked at Eric, who, after a moment's hesitation, nodded.

"Hogwarts is a school for children possessing... unique abilities," she said, choosing her words carefully. "It's hidden in the northern part of England, and is very difficult to approach without invitation."

"Unique abilities? What do you mean?"

Alice could see the conversation going one of two ways: she could try to explain magic, which would probably lead Mr. Zoldik to calling in Reynolds again, or she could try and persuade him that whatever instances in which Nathaniel had shown magical ability were real, and not something he (or whoever had witnessed them) had simply imagined. That, too, probably wouldn't go well, as the majority of Muggles seemed bent on ignoring magic even if it was staring them in their faces. Though, Mr. Zoldik was definitely different from any Muggle she had yet encountered, reminding her more of a wizard from an old pureblood family than anything else.

What she needed to do, she realized, was prove to him that magic was real, and the quicker she did it the better.

"Perhaps it would be better if I showed you," she tried.

He turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

"You have a video?"

"No - it's more of a demonstration."

"A demonstration? My, you certainly are a curious woman. Well, provided you're not simply wasting my time, that shouldn't be a problem..."

She looked around the office, breaths short, and spotted the computer mouse on his desk. Taking a step forward, Alice reached inside her suit for her wand - and suddenly, there was a rush of movement.

The guard, who had previously been little more than a piece of furnishing, had stepped in front of her. She stumbled backward in surprise, taking him in: he was enormous, almost a foot taller than her and three times as bulky, with a face looking like it was chiseled from a stone block. He glared down at her, mouth set in a scowl.

For a second, Alice wondered if he'd wanted to get a closer look at what she was about to do - then she realized he'd moved between her and Mr. Zoldik, and was protecting him.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Alice stuttered, "I was hoping to use your desk!"

Mr. Zoldik patted the guard on the shoulder. "Thank you, Hass... let's give her a chance to prove herself. She certainly doesn't seem very threatening to me."

The guard - Hass - stepped back, but remained close to Mr. Zoldik. When Alice went to withdraw her wand again the guard's hand shot into his own suit, but relaxed after seeing what it was. To him, it looked like nothing more than a stick.

She breathed. Trying to keep her hand from shaking, Alice pointed her wand at the computer mouse. She could feel Mr. Zoldik's eyes on her, as well as the guard's, and Eric's. She was once again the center of attention. Calming herself, she made the movement: swish, and flick.

" _Wingardium leviosa_."

The mouse rose a foot and a half above the desk, the blue light from underneath blinking on to indicate insufficient surface contact.

Mr. Zoldik and the guard stared.

After a moment's pause, Mr. Zoldik went over and touched the mouse, then plucked it out of the air. Alice kept her wand trained on it, keeping the spell active, and she was glad she did because he returned it to its spot and released it.

"Well, that's an impressive trick. What exactly do you have there?"

"Oh, it's not this, Mr. Zoldik. It's me. Nathaniel and I have similar abilities... the wand only helps direct them."

"You're saying - the wand? - you're saying Nathaniel can make things float in the air?"

She saw his skepticism mounting. Gaining confidence she stepped backward, dropped the mouse, then aimed at the desk -

" _Wingardium leviosa!"_

The entirety of the desk shuddered and rose three feet into the air, a trail of wires following it from the floor. Mr. Zoldik's eyes darted back and forth from her wand to the desk. After a moment, she eased it back down - judging by the expression on his face, it had been enough.

He looked directly at her. His gaze felt probing, as though he wasn't trying to look at _her_ exactly _,_ but was moreso trying to dismantle who she was, what she knew, and everything about her.

"How?" He asked.

She spoke carefully. "Has your son - has Nathaniel - ever done anything like this? Has anything strange ever happened, that perhaps you couldn't quite explain?"

He paused.

"...What is this?"

"It's magic, Mr. Zoldik."

Mr. Zoldik didn't say anything. He went behind his desk and paced along the length of the window, then whirled on the spot and asked her to do it again. She complied. He had her do it twice more, each time getting more investigative - he circled the entirety of his desk, felt for wires, looked for magnets that might have been installed without his knowledge, anything he could find that might explain what he was seeing, but found nothing.

"Okay." She let the desk down again. "And you need this, this _wand_ , to do this?"

"There are other forms of magic that don't require a wand."

"Show me."

She hesitated, put her wand away, then went to her briefcase-satchel in search of something she could use. After opening the flap, she was greeted by a bunch of bristles all squished together - her broomstick! Using her fingers, she unwedged and extracted the tail, then pulled the rest of it out, hand over hand, until the entirety of it was out in the room.

Mr. Zoldik's face broke into a smile. "Ha! Well, there's the broom!"

He went back to his desk and plopped into his chair, then stared at the ceiling and turned from side to side like someone thirty years younger. His guard watched him for a moment, an expression on his face as if he'd never seen Mr. Zoldik act like this, then remembered himself and went back to keeping an eye on Alice.

"So. So, so, so," Mr. Zoldik said. "You're telling me magic is real, that people can do magic, and you have a school that teaches it. And it's all very secretive. And it's possible to buy these things? Buy wands, and magical briefcases and all that?"

"Of course! There's a whole variety of shops selling different items. In the letter, there's actually a list of school supplies that Nathaniel will need -"

"No. I mean... buy, in general. Can I purchase a briefcase? Can I place an order for, say, a hundred thousand wands?"

"...Er, I'm afraid not, sir. There's some allowances for immediate family members - not for wands, but -"

"What about people? Can I hire people, that are trained in magic, as employees?"

"I'm... afraid not. There's sort of a separation, you see, between ours and the Muggle world. It's called the Statute of Secrecy."

"...And you say that only certain people can have this ability. It's something you're born with."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Zoldik turned in his chair again, rotating away and facing the frosted glass.

"...Muggle, that's a non-magical person," came his voice.

"Yes."

He kept still for a while. The guard continued watching her, and she shared a glance with Eric. She wanted to ask Mr. Zoldik about Nathaniel, if he was around to receive his letter or not, but she felt it might be rude to interrupt his thinking. It had taken her so long to actually _meet_ with one of the family members that she was willing to leave some space for his mannerisms if it meant everything going smoothly.

She fed her broomstick back into her briefcase-satchel while she waited, trying not to hurt the bristles, and a minute later Mr. Zoldik turned around once more.

"So," he said. "Nathaniel can do magic. And you're here to deliver him an acceptance letter to attend your school, where he can learn to do these sorts of things. My question to you, now, is why."

Alice hadn't been expecting that.

"Why, sir?"

"Yes. Why should Nathaniel attend your school. Say he goes through the entirety of it and becomes adept at using his abilities... what good will it do? He can't bring any of that back home with him. Tell me, does your school teach business? Accounting? Economics? How does student performance rank with other schools? Is this... _Hogwarts_ even an accredited institution? I've never heard of it before today, so what can you tell me that can guarantee it'll be worthwhile?"

"Mr. Zoldik -" _was he serious?_ \- "Hogwarts is _the_ most recognized school for witchcraft and wizardry in the entire world. It teaches magic from a number of fields, and its students can go on to do anything they dream of! Nathaniel will have unlimited opp-"

"No. That's not what I'm saying. You say Nathaniel should go to this school. I need - to know - _why,_ " He said, and smacked the top of his desk.

Alice was taken aback.

"As it stands," he continued, "Nathaniel's future in education is set on him learning what he needs to know to succeed me. I already have a number of schools picked out that all appear more capable of accomplishing that than anything you've told me so far, not to mention the colleges they'll be preparing him for. I'm _already_ getting emails vying for him to enroll when he comes of age. So, what makes Hogwarts the best option? Why is it worth throwing away the entire future that's been laid out for him, just so he can learn to float around desks in the air?"

Alice opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. The fields Mr. Zoldik was interested in were not strong spots at Hogwarts - it was true that there were classes being added every year that broached deeper into those subjects, but in their current states there was no way they'd measure up to Muggle schools that had been teaching them for decades.

Is this what things rested on? Would Mr. Zoldik really turn her away, if she failed to convince him? She desperately wanted to say something, to defend the life Nathaniel was so close to having, but what?

Suddenly, there was a tap on her shoulder. It was Eric.

"Professor McDonnell, if I may, I might be able to help here."

Mind still racing, she nodded and stepped backward.

"And who are you?" Mr. Zoldik asked. "Mr. Stynes, another professor?"

"No, sir. I am a member of the Muggle Relations department within the Ministry of Magic."

"Ministry of Magic, eh? How old are you?"

"Twenty-four, sir."

"I see. Is that common in your ministry?"

"No, sir, it is not."

If Mr. Zoldik was impressed, he didn't show it.

"Very well. Continue."

"Mr. Zoldik," Eric began, "this acceptance letter represents a truly unprecedented opportunity for Nathaniel. It is not simply an invitation to attend Hogwarts, though that is certainly no small thing - it is a welcome to the wizarding world, one that operates, by and large, entirely separate from Muggle society.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the Muggle world is facing quite a set of problems: inflated currency, high unemployment rates, overpopulation, drug-resistant diseases, an almost entirely absent middle-class... I'm sure I don't need to go on. People grow up here surrounded by stress and tension, with lives that could be thrown into chaos at the flick of a switch. A child's future, here, is uncertain. By comparison, the magical world has none of these problems. Should Nathaniel enroll at Hogwarts, he would gain access to a number of opportunities that would make the possibilities in his life - for all intents and purposes - limitless. Our job market is growing. Our economy is stable. As Professor McDonnell put it, he could accomplish anything he dreamed of. He would be safe."

Mr. Zoldik watched Eric.

"While your view of... Muggle society... is a bit exaggerated," he said, "there is some truth to your words. You say your economy is independent of Britain's?"

"Our economy is British, sir - but yes, for the most part, it is entirely separate from the one you're familiar with."

Mr. Zoldik tapped his desk, thinking.

"I would like to see some data regarding your marketplace."

"I'll... er, have to speak with my superior, but as the parent of a wizarding child I'm sure something can be arranged."

Mr. Zoldik turned to Alice: "I'd also like more information regarding Hogwarts, so as to consider my options."

"Oh, certainly!" She said. "There are even some introductory texts available, if you're interested."

"Yes, I suppose that would be useful. Reynolds can pay you."

Alice hadn't really planned on ordering one for him, but she supposed it wouldn't be too much trouble to send an owl off to Flourish & Blotts.

"There are a few different books -"

"I'll leave it to your discretion. I'm sure whatever is most in demand right now will suffice."

"Um, okay."

"Very well. I will consider what you have said. So, now you deliver your letter and that will be that?"

"Yes, sir, provided you don't have any more questions."

"There are always more questions, Professor McDonnell, but I think that will do for now."

Alice smiled. Finally, she was going to see Nathaniel!

"Er, Professor," Eric said, "you may want to address private tutoring..."

 _Oh_. She'd almost forgotten.

"Private tutoring? What's that?" Mr. Zoldik asked.

"It's -" her heart fell, just thinking about it - "in the event that a child chooses not to attend Hogwarts, and instead remains in the Muggle world, a personal tutor will be assigned to help them control their magic. It's only reserved for the most extreme circumstances, and is generally recommended against if attending Hogwarts is possible."

" _Assigned?_ "

His tone made it clear that this was not a welcome bit of news.

"Er - yes, sir. If a child does not learn to control their magic, they could accidentally use it when they don't mean to. It's a security risk, you see, for the magical world, not to mention a potential danger to the child and those around them."

"I see... and I have no say in the matter?"

"You can request alternative tutors, should one not be to your liking."

"But I would still have to hire one."

"The tutoring is free of charge, but yes, it would be mandatory."

"I see. That _almost_ sounds like a breach of my rights."

Alice might have imagined it, but she thought she heard Eric stifle a snort.

"Unfortunately, sir, in circumstances such as these, there are some restrictions over the rights of Muggles -"

Mr. Zoldik's eyebrows furrowed. "Is that so."

"It's for the best, sir, I can assure you."

"Right. So, you deliver your letter and you'll be on your way."

She nodded, even though it wasn't a question.

He signaled his guard, who spoke into his collar: "Send them in."

They waited. Nothing happened.

Mr. Zoldik looked at Alice and Eric, eyes narrowed. Oh no - there was a privacy ward that stopped Muggle communication devices during her meetings, but it should've made an exception once she was aware the communication was taking place.

The guard tried again - "Send them in."

This time, the guard nodded to Mr. Zoldik in affirmation. Alice let out a breath.

After a minute passed, the door at the bottom of the stairs opened. Two people entered: one a woman about Mr. Zoldik's age, and the other a boy, whose hair was just as white as his. The woman was, undoubtedly, Nathaniel's mother.

"Sophia, Nathaniel, this is Professor McDonnell and Mr. Stynes," Mr. Zoldik said, standing and joining the party in the middle of the room.

"A pleasure to meet you," said Alice, sticking out a hand.

The mother shook hers and Eric's hands delicately, then stood back.

"And you must be Nathaniel!"

He watched her, curious. "Hello."

"Professor McDonnell has come today with some very interesting news, Nathaniel," said Mr. Zoldik. "Remember that time you lost that piece of slag?"

Nathaniel's eyes widened.

"Well, it seems it may have actually vanished after all!"

Nathaniel looked from his father to Alice.

"What?"

Mr. Zoldik gestured for Alice to explain.

"Well, Nathaniel... it turns out that you are a very special child, who can do things that most people would think impossible. I am a professor from a school that helps teach children like you. Have you ever heard of magic?"

"Yes."

His mother laughed - "What is this?"

"Just wait, dear," said Mr. Zoldik.

"Well," said Alice, "magic is real, and you can do it."

Confusion crossed his face. "But... magic… it's only in stories."

"It's real, I promise! And... I can show you!"

She got out her wand, ready to do a demonstration, but Mr. Zoldik stopped her.

"Wait. Nathaniel, if somebody told you they could do impossible things, what would you have them do?"

The boy thought for a minute. "I would have them... turn lead into gold?"

Mr. Zoldik laughed and brought his hands together in a clap. "Yes, turn lead into gold! Can you do that, Professor McDonnell?"

She hesitated.

"It is possible to turn lead into gold," she said. "However, the magic it requires is a bit more complicated, and... the wizard banks probably wouldn't be very happy with me doing it."

"Ah, I suppose that makes sense," said Mr. Zoldik. "So you can't do it."

"I can, actually."

At that, Eric looked at her, surprised. Converting basic metals into gold was an extremely tedious and drawn out alchemical process, one that took years of training and advanced magic, and so not very many people could do it. In addition, it also wasn't generally worth the effort... she'd only ever managed to make a few grains herself. But she _did_ know how to do it.

"Not without permission, though," she added, "and not with the materials I have here."

"Ah. Disappointing. Something else, then - what else would you have her do, Nathaniel?"

"Could you, um, bring something to life?"

She smiled. "That, I can do!"

Alice looked around the office, wondering what kind of object to use. She wasn't actually going to be bringing something to life, of course - but spells to imbue objects with lifelike characteristics were easy enough. The Ministry of Magic did it all the time with their paper-airplane memos.

"Could I borrow a sheet of paper, Mr. Zoldik?"

"Certainly." He gestured to a printer along the wall.

Taking out her wand, Alice floated a piece of paper out in front of her (Nathaniel and his mother gasped as she did this), then laid a few groundwork charms: one to make sure the object would fall still should it come into view of an unknown Muggle, and another to help it understand and heed basic commands. With that done, she cast the spell -

" _Materie animatae!"_

The paper in front of her contorted, folding up into itself and tearing in a few places. A circular head took shape, and other parts of it rolled and twisted into arms, legs, and a body. A moment later, and the form of a stick-person had taken shape.

The figure dropped to the floor, where it caught itself and stood. Nathaniel picked it up, and it raised a hand in greeting.

"How - how are you doing this?" asked the mother.

Alice grinned. "Magic!"

"This must be a trick. Is this a trick, dear?"

Mr. Zoldik smiled. The mother looked at Alice again. "And Nathaniel, Nathaniel can do magic?" She asked.

"That's right."

Nathaniel looked up at her.

"You can do that and much, much more, Nathaniel," she continued. "At Hogwarts - a school for magic - you can learn how to do all sorts of things."

Nathaniel thought for a moment, watching the paper figure.

"But... I can't do this," he said. "There's something else going on, isn't there? This can't be _magic_. Magic isn't... it's not..." he trailed off, still in disbelief at the figure in his hands. "It's not _real..._ "

"Hasn't anything ever happened to you, Nathaniel?" Alice asked. "Hasn't anything strange ever happened, when you were angry, or scared?"

Slowly, his eyes widened. She smiled.

"Nathaniel, you're a wizard."

He looked at her.

"I have a letter for you -" she said. She opened up the briefcase-satchel, and was once more greeted by the sight of bristles. _Whoops_. Not wanted to interrupt the moment, she tapped her wand at the top of the briefcase and muttered, " _Accio letter._ "

The bristles moved a bit as the letter squirmed past, then popped up into the air. Alice seized it, then held it out for Nathaniel - a bit unceremonious, but it did the job.

The stick figure climbed up Nathaniel's arm and sat on his shoulder as he reached out and took the letter. He was still in disbelief. He looked at the wax seal, then turned it over to read the red, loopy writing on the front:

 _Mr. N. Zoldik_

 _The Eastern Tower_

 _80 Crescent Place_

 _Cambridgeshire_

"This is your acceptance letter into Hogwarts. It has the list of supplies you'll need for your classes, and instructions on how to prepare for the year. It's very important you don't lose it, okay?"

"Okay. And..." he started, hesitantly - "you'll be my professor?"

"I'd be one of your professors! You'll have quite a few, one for each of your classes."

"What class do you teach?"

"Potions," she said, smiling.

Just then, Mr. Zoldik interrupted again.

"Well, you've certainly given us quite a lot to think about, Professor McDonnell. Is there any way to contact you, should we have more questions?"

"Oh! Er, yes. There's a number included in Nathaniel's letter."

"Excellent."

"It's an, um, talking-only line," she said.

"That won't be a problem."

Alice and Mr. Zoldik turned to look at Nathaniel, who was still holding his letter. The mother, the guard, and Eric were also looking at him, trying to read his expression.

"Are there any more questions, or anything?" Alice asked.

"I think that will do for today," said Mr. Zoldik. "You will be sure to send the documents I requested?"

"Yes, you should have them before the weekend is through."

"Excellent. And those concerning magical society?"

Eric looked up - "Oh, of course, sir. I'll speak with my supervisor, and will correspond with you before the day's through."

"Splendid. Well, with that, thank you very much for stopping by - we'll have Reynolds escort you back to your vehicle, and he will pay you for the text - Reynolds!"

The door at the bottom of the stairway opened, and Reynolds' form filled the frame.

"Please pay Professor McDonnell for the text I ordered, and show her and Mr. Stynes to their car."

"Very good, sir."

"Goodbye, Nathaniel!" Alice called. "I hope to see you soon!"

He looked up, but didn't say anything. Mr. Zoldik's guard moved forward, ushering them down the stairway and out into the hall with Reynolds. The door shut behind them.

 _Well_ , Alice thought, _that was a bit rude_.

"Right this way," Reynolds rumbled.

Alice shared a glance with Eric, sighed, and the two of them followed Reynolds back to the entrance. She'd done as much as she could do, she supposed, and would just have to hope for the best. She couldn't imagine being from a Muggle family, learning you were a witch or wizard, and then not being allowed to go to school. She could only hope that Mr. Zoldik saw reason, and would let Nathaniel attend.

At the entryway to the manor, Alice was given a fifty-pound note to pay for the book (which was probably a bit more than she needed, but Reynolds didn't seem concerned). They were then ushered into the driveway, and a minute later, were departing the Zoldik residence.

"I'm curious, Professor -" asked Eric - "you said earlier that you were able to convert lead into gold. I understand that that's a very complicated alchemical process - not to mention illegal for civilians - and it has me wondering why someone of your skillset and authority would take up a position at Hogwarts."

"Oh! Well, I teach an Alchemy course, you see. We don't convert lead into gold, of course, only touch on the underlying principles, but it's a broad field and there are _plenty_ of other things to look into. It's generally reserved for sixth and seventh years unless an exception is made, and then there's a few other courses in Magical Chemistry and Elemental Transfiguration I teach as well."

"But for the most part, you're the Potions professor?"

"Yes."

"I see. Sorry, I'm just... curious… why you went into teaching, in the first place. Is the Headmaster allowing you to use the school equipment and resources for your research?"

Alice frowned.

"Mr. Stynes, I'm a professor at Hogwarts because that's what I like to do. Yes, I'm allowed to do my own research, but that's not _why_ I'm there. Ever since I was a child I've always wanted to be a teacher, and while I could go outside of academia if I wished, I don't think it would make me happy."

"Oh, right. I see."

Their conversation paused.

"You... were a Ravenclaw, then?"

She smiled. "Yes."

He laughed. "That would explain it. So, what are you off to do, once we get back to the Ministry?"

"Well, first I need to go to Diagon Alley and order the Zoldiks that textbook - I'm probably going to need to change out their money, too - and after that, I'm probably going to need to stop by the Leaky Cauldron."

Eric laughed again. "Not a bad idea. Do you know how late you'll be there?"

"Probably not too late, just for a drink or two. Why?"

"I was hoping to finish up a report and collect a signature from you. Just, concerning this whole Zoldik adventure."

"Oh, sure, that should be fine. You like to keep your records, don't you?"

He shrugged. "That's how I've gotten to where I am."

"I see," she said, giving him a look of consideration.

"So, I'll write you in an hour or two?"

"Yes, that sounds good."

They chatted for another minute or so about what house Nathaniel would probably be in (Alice wanted to reserve judgment, but it was hard not to think Slytherin), and, once arriving at the Ministry (and after Eric gave her another quick reminder about writing Maves) the two of them parted ways.

Once back in the alleyway, Alice extracted her broom from her briefcase-satchel, which she promptly transfigured back to her regular-satchel. She then paused, reconsidering the order in which she wanted to do things: she _had_ to get out of her suit, pronto, and back into her flying robes. There was no question about it.

Gringotts and the Zoldiks were going to have to wait.


	5. Cole

The bell rang, and immediately Ray's mind focused out of the coma Mr. Garren's multiplication tables had put her into. She grabbed the worksheets and pencils off her desk and stuffed them into her drawer, shot out of her seat (grabbing the back of the chair to stop it from tipping over), then raced to the exit hallway where all the backpacks and coats were stored.

The rest of the class funnelled out to the playground behind her as she dug into her pack. Earlier that day, she'd carefully sandwiched her Hogwarts letter within the pages of a large book to protect it from getting bent or wrinkled - and it had worked perfectly. Pulling it out from the book, its weight sent tingles up her hand. This was her ticket to a new world. Douglas would be coming any day now to take her away, to show her the world of witches and wizards and magic, and she couldn't possibly be more excited.

Letter in hand, she gave a quick look around to make she hadn't been watched, then clutched the envelope tight to her chest and followed the few remaining kids out to the playground.

The weather was amazing. She could tell it was going to be hot later, but right now the sky was blue, the breeze was pleasant, and there was a whole team of girls kicking around a soccer ball on the field. Ray slowed and watched them for a moment, a pang of guilt rising in her chest, before she caught sight of Jordan and Heather and her excitement rose again. They were at the swings and waving at her to come join them in the line, but she signalled them to come to her instead - she had something they'd find much more interesting.

She knew she shouldn't be showing it to them, with it supposed to be being a secret and all, but there was no way she was going to be able to hide it for the rest of the school year and she had to tell someone.

"Hey!" Jordan asked, bouncing over on the balls of his feet. "You don't want to go for the swings?"

"I've got something to show you," she said. It was hard to keep her smile from breaking out, even though she was trying to look inconspicuous.

"What's that you got?" Heather asked. "A letter?"

Ray put a finger to her lips and shushed her, then cast her eyes around for a secluded spot. At the edge of the playground was a tall, wooden fence that separated them off from the parking lot, and at the corner where it connected with the dirty bricks of the school building there was a decently out-of-sight area she could work with.

"This way," she said. "You're not going to believe this… but we got a visitor at the house yesterday."

"Oh no, a visitor?" Jordan teased, "Whatever did you do?"

She grinned - "Shut up! This visitor - well, they weren't a _normal_ person, you see."

"What," said Heather, pushing her glasses up her nose, "were they deformed, or something?"

Ray's jaw dropped.

"That's awful! No, they were special because of what they could do!"

Stopping at the edge of the bark chips, Ray whirled on them and studied their faces. They were each looking at her, Jordan nonplussed, Heather with an eyebrow raised.

"They were…" she looked around, making sure nobody was listening to them, even though it was quite clear they were alone. "They were magic."

Silence.

"...What…" Heather said, clearly not buying it.

"How do you mean?" said Jordan.

"What I mean is, they came to our house on a broomstick, they brought the dead flowers on our table back to life, and fixed the pipes under our sink with a wave of a magic wand! They even turned themselves invisible!"

Neither of them were believing her.

"So... what's the joke?" Jordan asked.

"It's no joke," Ray said. "It's real. And, I've got proof."

Unfolding the envelope, Ray carefully pulled out the papers of her letter and handed them over. Jordan hesitated a moment, looked at the first few lines, then took it to read.

"But," Jordan said, eyes tracing the lines, "witches and wizards aren't real, are they? That's only stuff in stories."

"No, see? It's all there," she pointed. "It's got an official signature and everything."

Heather peered over Jordan's shoulder. "It does look like a grown-up letter," she admitted, "but it's got to be a joke, hasn't it?"

"No, it's real, I'm telling you - Douglas has been going to Hogwarts for years. He's even got a job at the magical ministry!"

"Magical ministry? That sounds silly, where would they hide such a thing? Wouldn't we all know about it by now?"

"Not if they have ways to keep themselves hidden."

She frowned. "Are you sure he isn't just... playing a trick on you, or something?"

"My older brothers play tricks on me all the time," said Jordan.

Ray snatched the letter back. "Listen, I'm telling you, it is real! A witch came to our house, did magic for us - she even had a sit-down with my parents and talked them over the whole thing, and _they_ were convinced!"

Suddenly, Ray noticed two girls approaching. Adrenaline rushed through her. One had pretty, wavy blonde hair and a cool look on her face, and the other had an upturned nose, black hair done up in a ponytail, and was grinning evilly with her big teeth. Their names were Cole and Judy the Rat, and Ray hated the both of them.

"What do you want?" she demanded, as they came up with hands on their hips. Jordan immediately stepped to her side, while Heather retreated behind them. Heather wasn't the most social person in the first place (it had taken her and Jordan a while to get her to open up as much as she had), so she made herself an easy target for mean comments. And of course, it didn't help that she shared the same first name as Cole.

Cole looked sideways at Judy. "Oh, we just heard somebody talking about witches and magic, is all."

Ray's face went hot. Of all people, why had they been the ones to hear?

"So?"

"So, we were curious. What's that you got there? A letter?"

Before Ray could react, Judy swept in and stole it from her hands.

"Give it back!" Jordan shouted, starting toward her.

Judy sprang over to the fence and stood there on her tip-toes, holding the letter over the edge. Jordan stopped. Going backward a few more paces, Judy peered up at the letter's contents.

"Ooo, an invitation to Hogwarts!" she sneered. "Gross! Hog-warts? Sounds disgusting!"

"Let me see it," said Cole. Judy passed it to her.

Ray's anger surged.

"Give it back!"

"I just want to look at it," Cole said innocently, continuing to hold it aloft. Ray didn't dare move forward with the fence right there.

"Well you can't! It's private, and you've no right to be reading it!"

"Private? Well, what difference does it make?" she said, eyes narrowing as she read the writing. "Even if you did get a letter from some school, you probably won't get in when they see your marks. I mean, didn't you fail the last math test?"

Her face reddened. "Shut it."

A grin appeared on Cole's face. "You know, you really ought to be nicer to me," she said, fanning herself with the papers. "After all, I might be your boss someday."

"I said shut it!" she shouted, and started toward her again. Cole held the letter up to the fence, but Ray didn't care - let her drop it, she thought. She wasn't above climbing over the fence if she had to, and it wasn't worth her holding onto it any longer.

As though reading her thoughts, Cole quickly switched tactics and brought it down between her hands, positioning it to tear it.

"Don't!" Ray yelled, horror-struck.

"Come on," Judy sneered. Ray's pulse thumped. "I don't see why you're getting so worked up about a fake letter. I mean, Witchcraft and wizardry? Do you honestly think that stuff is real? What are you, five years old? And the name is Hog-warts, that's gotta be the most made-up name I've ever heard."

"Not surprising to me at all," said Cole coolly. "She's never been much for brains, has she? I'm more surprised that she thinks she's going to pass. The only school you're going to next year is this one, Ray, it'll be another few terms with Mr. Garren for sure, while all the rest of us go on with our lives..."

She was furious. Her fists were shaking, eyebrows creasing her forehead with lines, and she kept mouthing words, but didn't know what to say and didn't want to prove Cole right by saying something stupid.

Suddenly, behind her, Heather spoke up: "She doesn't do that poorly."

"Ooo, did someone hear that?" Judy teased, pretending to look around. "I thought I heard a mouse squeaking around somewhere!"

"No, she's right!" Ray said, grateful for someone saying something. "She's got the best marks in the class, as I'm sure you know, and I don't fall that far behind her! Besides, I'm surprised you're talking about people staying back, Cole - isn't your brother still here, after all?"

Everybody went quiet. Her eyes widened. She'd gone to far. Cole was the one looking furious now, and after a moment's pause, she tore her letter in half. The pieces fluttered to the ground.

"Oops."

Everything fell silent. Then the world came crashing in on her, and she screamed and threw herself at Cole. Bodies colliding, they tumbled to the ground, but before she could start beating at her with her fists, someone large grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her into the air.

"Calm down, Ray!" they scolded.

"She tore my letter!" she shrieked, thrashing in their arms. "She tore my letter!"

It was Mrs. Canilly, one of the teachers on watch while everyone was at recess. She had come out of nowhere.

"I said calm down, Ray!" she insisted. "This is no way for a young lady to behave!"

Mrs. Canilly set her on the ground and held her in place. She was fuming, face red, nostrils flared, wanting more than anything to get at Cole and Judy, but Mrs. Canilly was too strong. She wished more than anything she'd landed at least one hit before getting in trouble. Mrs. Canilly pointed at the two of them. "You, girls, wait somewhere where I can find you. I'll be over to talk with you in a minute. And the rest of you clear off as well, I need to have a word with Miss Zuwaldt here."

Cole, looking quite ruffled, brushed off her uniform and trotted away with Judy following closely behind. Judy stuck out her tongue, and Ray wanted to punch her jaw so hard that she'd bite it.

Mrs. Canilly took ahold of her shoulders and redirected her attention away from them. Water was collecting in her eyes, and she wiped away the tears angrily, not wanting anybody to see.

"Now, now," said Mrs. Canilly. "You know you're not supposed to be getting into fights! Haven't we been working on this?"

She wanted to ask why she was getting into trouble and not Cole, but only grumbled.

"We have, I know you remember. And you do remember what happened last time?"

The words sunk in. She paled. She'd been taken to Mr. Garren, who had called a student conference with her Mum and suspended her from the schoolyard for a full week. Her Mum had punished her with extra chores and no television, and she'd been made to run laps at every recess, returning to the classroom sweaty and exhausted. Of course, not being able to play with Jordan and Heather was the worst part - she'd ran enough at soccer to not be bothered by it.

Her breaths came in hard. It was so unfair. She hadn't started it, she hadn't even been doing anything, and now she was the one in trouble?

"And do you remember what we'd said we'd do if you couldn't control yourself again?"

The principal's office. If she was going to the principal, she would be getting a phonecall home, and after everything her mum put her through last time she dreaded what would happen if she was called again.

"Please, Mrs. Canilly, she tore my letter!" she said. "I've been waiting for that letter my whole life, and now it's ruined! And I didn't even hit her, I didn't!"

"Now, now," she said again, "it was only torn, wasn't it? It's still perfectly readable, after a little mending."

"But that doesn't matter! It's special, and I was supposed to take care of it, and now it's - it's -" the words failed her, and she wiped at her eyes again.

Mrs. Canilly was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"Well, I suppose getting everybody into a fuss this late in the year won't do much good. But you understand you need to be punished, don't you? You can't resolve all of your arguments with fighting. You must learn to control yourself. So instead of getting Mr. Garren or the principal involved, it's after-school detention -"

"No!" she pleaded. "I have to take my brother home, we can't have him going by himself! And I have to do my chores right away, or Mum will be sore at me! Please!"

Mrs. Canilly looked her over again, then relented. "Detention on Monday, then, during recess. I daresay you could use the study time. And as for now, you need to go and apologize to Miss Cole, then it'll be laps until the bell. And I want you thinking about how a girl your age ought to act while you're at it, and how you're going to do better next time."

Ray kept herself from arguing and followed Mrs. Canilly over to Cole and Judy. Cole stood there, scowling with her arms crossed, and Ray stood for a second before she managed to force out an apology. Thankfully, the expression on Cole's face made it easier - if she still had her grin it would've been impossible. Mrs. Canilly then made Cole apologize for tearing the letter, which Ray didn't think was nearly enough to make up for it, but she was watching herself and didn't want to push her luck saying things out of turn. Then she was excused, and she made straight for the field, not wanting to be around Cole or Judy another second.

Jordan and Heather came up alongside her, Heather with the envelope in her hands. She knew her letter was inside.

"Laps?" Jordan asked.

"Yep."

"Oh. Gotcha," he said, voice grim.

"I'll keep a hold of your letter, shall I?" Heather asked, tentatively.

"Yeah, thanks."

And so, Ray stepped onto the grass and broke into a jog. She finished the first stretch and rounded the corner, and saw Jordan and Heather off at the swings and talking like they had all that one week. She wished she was there with them right now, and she turned to look at the ground, hating Cole and the whole situation. It just wasn't fair. But it wasn't like she could blame Mrs. Canilly, she'd been lenient enough with her in the past.

She ran for the rest of break. If it was just her and some random kids on the field it wouldn't have been as bad, but the soccer team was there, and she was never quite able to get into a groove. With them practicing it was an entirely different punishment... every time one of the girls shouted or called out a "Here!", her face burned with shame. She knew them, and they knew her. Zoey, Erica, and Clem, and all the others. She'd known them for a long time. But there was nothing for it. She just had to push through, and try not to be bothered with it, and try to get into her groove. Thankfully, they were doing her the courtesy of ignoring her.

When recess ended she came jogging back in and met up with Jordan and Heather again, who handed her the heavy envelope. They made their way back into Mr. Garren's class. Once seated, she made a point not look anywhere near where Judy and Cole sat, instead focusing on the rate her sweat was evaporating and trying to immerse herself in the lecture. Rather unusually, instead of Mr. Garren continuing their lesson from earlier, he spent the entire time reviewing material for their SATs and talking them through setting up study schedules.

The thought actually brought relief to her. It wasn't the tests, of course, but the fact that after them, she wouldn't ever have to worry about mathematics equations or proper grammar ever again. She wasn't even sure if she should worry about the SATs - of course she felt nervous, and her mother would want her to do well, but if she did horribly on them would it really matter as much? She was going to Hogwarts after all, to learn magic! She couldn't imagine witches and wizards would be too interested in the marks she got at an ordinary school. But in the back of her mind, Cole's words came back to her - what if they did look? What if they were like any other secondary school, and would check her records just the same? She knew her marks were passing, after comparing with Heather, but there was still her conduct, and everything together might raise some eyebrows.

The day ended with the joy stolen out of the weekend.

"Are you guys wanting to study?" Jordan asked, as they made their way to the busses with everyone else. "We could all meet at my house on Sunday. I know Mum and Dad would be pleased, Dad might even make lemonade."

"That sounds good to me," said Heather. "I was planning on studying all weekend anyway. Shall we do Saturday as well?"

"Hmm," grumbled Ray. "No thanks. I mean, Sunday works for me, but I couldn't be inside all weekend."

"We could try outside," Jordan offered. "Put a blanket out in the grass."

"What about dog pee?" said Heather.

"None of our neighbors bring their dogs in the back," he laughed. "Plus, they just came through and picked up all the litter!"

Ray thought for a moment, trying to find another way out of it. That did sound pretty good, but what she'd really meant was that she couldn't spend the whole weekend studying.

"I've also got to help Mum with the farm," she said. "I'll probably be busy all of Saturday, but could come over Sunday for a few hours."

"Alright, that works, then."

As they approached the line of busses, a small child detached itself from its group and came running over, arms pinwheeling at their sides.

"Rayyy!" they called - it was her little brother, Seb. His teacher, who had been shepherding the group and was about to call after him, relaxed after seeing her and let him go.

"Look!" he said - he was carrying a picture he'd painted, with him and Ray standing next to Badger and Roady on a long, green, smear of grass.

"That's great, Seb," said Ray. "C'mon, stick close to me. See you guys later! Call me when you figure things out!"

"I will!" said Jordan.

"Bye!" said Heather.

Ray held out her hand and Seb grabbed it, and the two of them got on board the bus. She made her way to an open seat and let Seb crawl in first, then plopped down herself, setting her backpack on the floor. She hated having to take the big, rumbling, stinky-sweaty machine all the way home. It made her feel like she was riding a big, dumb, robot-cow, that had no air conditioning and blared at you if you even put a foot in the aisleway. But her days of bus-riding were coming to a close, she thought to herself, and she tried to keep her mind there, away from her spazzy brother, the shouting nine-year-olds sticking their phones in each other's faces, and how pissed her Mum was going to be if she found out about her detention.


	6. Douglas

Two hours later, once Ray had detached her legs from the sticky synthetic leather of the bus seats, walked home with Seb, and looked after the chicken coop, she was collapsed on the grass, frowning up at the sky. Her thoughts were dwelling on the torn-up letter in her backpack and how she'd really like to shove Cole to the ground again, and that neither Jordan or Heather had believed her about Hogwarts. And, of course, the last chore she had to do.

"Ray!" came her mother's voice. Not wanting to be found slacking on the job, she jumped to her feet.

" _Yeah?!_ "

"How are things coming? We'll be having a visitor for dinner, and you need to wash up as soon as you can!"

Her mind sped: _a visitor?_

"Okay!"

Who could it be? It couldn't be anyone from school - at least she hoped not, she had never heard of a teacher coming all the way out to someone's _house_ to discuss rowdy kids before, and the matter between her and Mrs. Canilly felt settled. Could it be one of Cole's parents, coming to talk about the almost-fight they'd had today? She'd hardly pushed her, really, and it didn't seem too likely outside of that, based on the _actual_ fights she'd had.

Feeling apprehensive and slightly annoyed at the world, Ray sped off toward the tractor corrals to get her last chore done.

Each corral had a pump station for fuel, lubricant, and coolant, and all of them had their own connecting tubes that were so old they needed to be checked (then disassembled and cleaned, if necessary, which half the time it was), then primed so everything went smoothly when the tractors rolled themselves in. There was also a washing station to scrub off dust and debris, but _that_ kept itself up pretty well and only needed to be looked at once every couple weeks or so.

Ray went to each station in turn. Unfortunately, only the first station was passable, and by the time she got through the other three she was greasy, grimy, and drenched in sweat.

Trudging over to the outdoor shower, she scrubbed off as much gunk as she could using some of the harsher shampoos the kept out of the house (which were the only ones up to the job), then went inside and took a normal one in the bathroom.

Following this, she went to her and Seb's room to change. Once it was certain he wasn't hanging around waiting to jump out and scare her, she dumped her dirty clothes in the hamper and pulled fresh ones out of her dresser, not really caring what they were, at least past the point of her mother yelling at her if they weren't nice enough for visitors.

She looked down at her bed as she dressed, eyeing her backpack atop it and thinking of the letter within. Anger crept up, and she shook her head - it wouldn't do any good to think about it now, she had to be ready for whatever visitor was coming. Instead she pushed the thoughts from her mind and left the room, hitting the lightswitch.

Once back in the kitchen, she found her mother cooking dinner. Seb was there too, doing what he could to help, which wasn't much more than dropping silverware onto the table and poking them into _almost_ the correct positions.

She smelled the air, stomach growling: "Enchiladas?"

"Yes, and rice and beans," said her Mum. "Could you put on the rice?"

Her mood brightened considerably. "Sure! Who's coming over?"

"Your father, any minute now -" her Mum said, leaning back and checking the driveway in case he happened to be pulling in at that very moment - "and then your brother, a little later."

Her heart lept - "Douglas is coming?"

"Yes he is. He's got the weekend off to help you collect your school things."

"You mean I'm going? For certain?"

Her mother looked at her, surprised. "Well, of course you are! You don't think I would've let you get your hopes up for nothing, do you?"

Her face broke into a grin, heart swelling with excitement.

Going to prepare the rice, she dragged a pot from the cupboard and shoved a few things around on top of the counter to make room for herself.

"Don't tell me you didn't know you were going?" her Mum said.

"Well, I just wasn't sure," she said. "I knew it was a decent chance, but like you're always saying, 'nothing's ever set in stone', so I was trying not to think about it. Plus, I just thought, maybe, because of my marks, and what some of the things the kids at school were saying -"

"Oh, kids can be mean. And as for your marks, that is a point of concern… you _do_ think you'll be able to pass your tests, don't you?"

"I should be able to!" she said, then hesitated, suddenly remembering the study group. "Actually, I was hoping to go over to Jordan's on Sunday. Do you know when Douglas is taking me to get my things?"

"Tomorrow. Once you're finished with your chores, that is - but then I think he was wanting to do some other things with you Sunday as well. You'll have to fix it with him, but I'm sure it can all be arranged. Provided you're actually going over to _study,_ of course?"

"I _will_ be Mum! I promise. I've got my tests all next week, and with Hogwarts and everything I couldn't relax even if I wanted to!"

Her Mum raised an eyebrow at her.

"You really are nervous, aren't you? Maybe I should've let you get your hopes up after all, if it meant you'd be putting more effort into your classes..."

"I _do_ put in effort, Mum!" Ray said, rinsing the rice grains under the tap. "And honestly, I really don't do _that_ poorly…"

"Well you could certainly be doing a lot better than you are. You're a smart girl, Ray, you just need to learn to apply yourself."

She sighed. "I know, Mum..."

Having finished with the rice and set it to cook, she went over and helped Seb adjust the place settings. Then, right at that moment, the dogs outside exploded into barking.

"Oh, good!" Her Mum said. Then, as if suddenly remembering - "Ray, after dinner, you need to chance the sheets on Seb's bed."

 _Oh no,_ she thought. Changing the sheets meant Douglas would take it, which meant she'd have to deal with Seb.

"Er... yes, but what if Douglas were to take the couch or something -"

"Ray!" Her mother glared at her. "That's no way to be thinking. He's your older brother! You can certainly manage just for one night."

"Oh, no, I meant that maybe he doesn't want to go back in the room, is all," she said, backpedalling, "Just, now that he might be used to having other sleeping arrangements and everything. Besides, he might even be able to... er, magic the couch into a bed?"

Her mother paused, considering this.

"I know you're just trying to get out of sharing. But perhaps we can check and see what he's thinking - the offer will stand, though, should he want it."

"Yes, of course!"

Finally, her father entered the house, managing to keep the dogs outside.

"Welcome home, dear!" her mother called.

"Welcome home, Dad!" Ray and Seb sang out, Seb a bit slower on the draw.

"Hello, everyone! Douglas not in yet?"

"Not yet, but he will be at any moment," said her Mum.

"Great, that means I still have a chance to shower -" he hurried through the kitchen, pausing to give her a peck on the cheek and then a friendly bump to Ray with his knee, before going down the hallway and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Could you check if we have any iced tea?" her mother asked.

They spent the next few minutes finishing setting up the table: the pitcher was filled, the serving dishes loaded, the plates set, and just as Ray's father finished up changing into fresh clothes, the dogs outside exploded into barking again.

"Hello everyone!" called Douglas, sliding around the screen door with practiced ease.

"Hey!" Ray shouted.

Douglas was taller than their mother by about a foot, had a load of brown hair that sometimes got a bit messy, and was wearing a long, robe-like business suit that looked a little out of place from normal standards. He was carrying a black briefcase in one hand and a large birdcage in the other, inside of which was an alarmed-looking, treebark-brown owl with huge, orange eyes. Ray ran over to him and clung on in a sideways bear-hug, the owl hooting frantically as it tried to keep its footing.

"Oof! Hey, you," said Douglas, patting her head.

"Welcome home, sweetheart!" called their mother. "...You've got an owl?"

"Yeah. Hold on, one second." Douglas looked around for a spot to put the cage and set it on the floor against the bottoms of the coats. He put his briefcase next to it, then greeted everyone properly - giving a full hug to Ray, then their mother, then shaking hands with their father.

"Good to see you, Frank!"

"Welcome home, Douglas!"

"So," their mother asked, "what's with the owl? Have you got work while you're here?"

"Oh, no, he's a gift for you guys! Or maybe Ray, perhaps, so you can keep in contact while she's at school. Cellphones don't work so well around magic, you know, electricity can't flow properly, so if you want to send a message you have to use owls."

"Oh, honey, I'm not sure if I can keep after an owl…"

"You won't have to worry, Mum. Wizarding owls pretty much take care of themselves, and with you living on a farm he'll be able to look after himself completely. All the mice and frogs and everything. Plus, he'd probably be living at Hogwarts most of the year."

He then sighed, and Ray realized he looked a bit more worn than she remembered. Was it just from him having a busy day? Or was it that same weariness she saw in adults all the time, and had started to creep in on him while he'd been away?

"How was your day, Doug?" she asked.

"Oh, good. Busy - always a lot of work for interns, you know, filling out forms and getting everyone's papers in order. There's definitely no shortage of hours at the Ministry..."

"Ministry?" Their father asked, as everyone made for the table. "What department are you in?"

Suddenly, however, the owl gave an indignant hoot from the corner.

"Oh - sorry!" Douglas lept out of his chair. "I've got to let Turing out -"

Ray watched as he picked up the cage and took it out to the front porch, nudging Badger and Roady aside, who were stuck like kitchen magnets at the edge of the table.

Douglas set the cage on the porch railing and unlatched the door, saying, "You come back here now, alright? This is your new home. You'll love it here, I promise - lots of countryside, loads of farmland, wide open skies and all the fresh air you could ask for."

Ray raised an eyebrow - he was talking to it? Oddly enough, however, the owl gave a hoot in reply... could wizarding owls understand human speech?

The owl - Turing - walked out onto the porch railing, shook its feathers, and looked around. He looked at Badger and Roady, considered them, then inside at Ray and the family, who were all watching the proceedings with interest.

"This is your new home, okay?" Douglas repeated. "This and Hogwarts. And you two," he said to Badger and Roady, "you be nice to Turing, got it?"

The dogs continued wagging their tails and panting. Ray gave a bemused smirk, doubting very much that Badger and Roady would have understood anything even if they'd been raised by wizards too.

Turing the owl then looked around again, head swiveling almost independently on his body, gave Douglas's hand an affectionate nibble, then spread a pair of enormous wings and took off into the oncoming dusk.

Coming inside, Douglas noticed the looks on everyone's faces.

"Sorry about that," he said. "He should be fine, he was completely restless at his last home. I think he'll appreciate having letters to deliver again, and a new place to fly around..."

He took his seat at the table, rolled up his sleeves, and continued serving up.

Ray's father cleared his throat, a confused expression on his face. "You were, um, talking to it, talking about it, like it… understands?"

"Oh, yes, that must have looked a bit strange," Douglas laughed, but keeping his eyes on the heaped spoonful of rice he was serving himself. "They're very well-trained, you see, and bred a great deal smarter than normal owls. I wouldn't be surprised if Turing understood everything I told him, in fact."

"Are they... magical?" asked Ray's mother - they all joined in in scooping food onto their plates.

"That's a good question," he said. "There might be a bit of magic involved in their breeding, but I don't think they're magical themselves. Although, they do seem to know where they're going… I'm really not sure. If there is anything magical about them, it's pretty subtle."

They went on asking questions as they got into the food. Ray was sure Douglas would rather not be talking, but he seemed to be fine humoring everyone. As it turned out, owls were pretty expensive to own - most families only had one or two between them, but Douglas had gotten lucky. His coworker at the Ministry hadn't been using him much in recent years, and was starting to feel guilty about it, so he'd given him to Douglas for free.

"Owls get bored, you know? If they've got nothing to do," Douglas said.

Douglas was working in the Department of Magical Businesses and Industries, one of the most up-and-coming sections at the wizarding Ministry - "the Ministry of Magic, you know, M.O.M." Apparently, things were busy in the magical world and there was all sorts of license applications, land concealment registers, employer identification forms, and a bunch of other boring paperwork that came shooting into the offices at all hours of the day that had to be sieved through. "That's where us interns come in," he said. "It's a lot of quill-scratching, or pen-pushing, I suppose, but it really is the best place to start. I'm very glad to have my foot in the door."

Their mother then caught Douglas up on all the goings-ons around the farm; how she was starting to look into machine rentals to keep up with their neighbors, the witch that had come by to help explain things to their father ("Oh, Professor McDonnell? She's excellent, a favorite among the Ravenclaws,") and how excited Ray was about going to school, at which point Douglas was given the reins over the conversation again and went into more detail of student life at Hogwarts. By the time they'd finished dessert (a peach-cobbler using fruit from their own trees), Douglas was visibly tired and excused himself for a walk around the yard.

"Go on," Ray's mother said, seeing her eager to follow Douglas. "I'll take care of the dishes this once."

Happily, she sped outside after him. Douglas was already past the chicken coop, wandering toward the trees, looking at the orange sky with his hands in his pockets. Badger and Roady, who had followed him out, were running circles around him.

"Hey, you," said Douglas.

"Hey!"

"Funny being back here," he went on, Ray getting pushed around by the dogs. "You start spending more and more time away from home and when you come back, it doesn't have the same feel, even though everything's still the same. Look..." he picked up an egg off the ground - "hens still laying eggs all over the place!"

Ray gave a quizzical smile, wrenching a slobbery ball out of Roady's mouth and chucking it. They sped off, and Douglas tossed her the egg, continuing toward the trees.

"You ready?" he asked.

Her heart rushed. "For Hogwarts? I have no idea! I'm -"

"No, not for Hogwarts, for leaving," he said. "I sure was. Didn't have the best time at school, you know? Missed these guys, though!"

Roady and Badger came charging back up, but Badger wouldn't drop the ball, and Douglas took the opportunity to scrub a cloud of loose hair out from Roady's fur.

"You're getting pretty old, aren't you, boy?"

Roady panted happily.

"Er, leaving?" said Ray. "I'm not sure. I haven't really thought about it."

"And you don't know if you're ready for Hogwarts?"

"Well, I mean, I don't know, is it a lot like a regular school?"

He laughed. "No, no it is not."

They went into the trees and stood on the boulders overlooking the muddy creek for a moment, before thoughts of mosquitoes drove them back into the yard.

"I don't think it's possible to be ready for it, really," he went on. "I don't think even kids from wizarding families have a full idea of what they're in for - it's one thing to hear about something, but another to experience it, you know?"

"I guess so. So it's a big change? Completely different?"

He thought for a moment.

"In a lot of ways, yeah, but the kids are still the same. But I'm sure you'll love it."

She grinned. "And I'll get to see a bit more of you, right?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe. I'm going to be taking a bunch of classes and will have a pretty intense workload. You might see me if you come by the library sometimes, but I'm going to be really busy. Plus, you know, seventh years and first years don't really have much in common."

"Well, i'll be sure to visit you if i can. We're bound to see each other sometimes, right?"

"Oh, of course. I mean, it _is_ a big place, but everybody goes to the cafeteria, and hangs out by the lake on the hot days, and if we…" he trailed off.

"If we what?"

"Er, nevermind."

Ray raised an eyebrow, but she continued on. "How's their soccer team?"

Douglas plopped down onto the grass and laughed. "There isn't much of a soccer following, as it happens. Definitely no teams. There might be a soccer _club_... I think..."

"WHAT?" she shouted. "How can they not follow _soccer?_ "

"They're wizards, remember!" he laughed. "There's another sport, though, that has everyone's attention - Quidditch. It's played on broomsticks, and it's kind of like basketball, with some soccer mixed in."

"Broomsticks? Like, flying broomsticks?"

"You got it."

"Is it good?"

"I'm not sure - you know how I am about sports."

"You don't go to the games at _all?_ "

"Well, maybe one or two, but they're not really my thing. You might actually want to try out for Quidditch, come to think of it."

"Hmm, maybe, but if I can get soccer off the ground, I'll be sticking with that."

He laughed. "You'll be hard-pressed to beat out Quidditch. But if you set your mind to it - well, who knows!"

"Maybe by the time Seb comes around I'll have it as the leading sport," she joked, plopping into the grass next to him. It was dry and scratchy, but after adjusting herself it wasn't too bad.

"...I, er, don't think Seb's going to be coming around, Ray."

"What?" she asked, sharply. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he's… he's only our half-brother, isn't he? I don't think he's magical. Pretty sure of it, in fact."

Ray sat back on her elbows and frowned, the grass poking at her. It hadn't been like she was _expecting_ Seb to be going to Hogwarts - in fact, she was still trying to accept the idea that _she_ was able to go - but she'd never considered what it'd be like to be left behind. It was a bit saddening to think about, honestly - Seb hanging back, while she and Douglas went off to become witches and wizards. All of her friends, too... Jordan, Heather, their families, her teachers, Mum, Dad... none of them would be coming with her. They'd all continue living ordinary lives for the rest of their days, going to work, driving cars, watching television, while she got to go on. All because she happened to be magical.

"What... happened to our actual father? Do you know?"

It was a weird question to ask - she wasn't used to thinking about any other father but the one she knew.

Douglas frowned. "No, and I don't care. He was just some low-life, Ray. He ran off on us, didn't he? Not worth thinking about. Frank's twice father he ever was."

"But, he was a wizard, wasn't he?"

"Yeah."

"...Do you remember him?"

"Kind of, but it's been a while, and like I said, he's not worth thinking about. He stuck around long enough to see me off to Hogwarts then that was it, didn't care what happened to me after, didn't care about you or Mum."

"And you don't know anything about him?"

He sighed, tearing up some grass and tossing it.

"Just a few things. He was in Slytherin, won a few awards, thought himself a bit of an inventor. I looked into him a bit my first year, but I've never had a talk with Mum about him or looked into him since. Been trying to ignore he even exists, in fact, and I've been doing pretty well about it. He probably just fancied her, you know, and slipped her a love potion."

His tone had gone sour. Ray decided it was time to change the subject.

"What, er, house are you in?"

"Me? I'm Slytherin, too. If you've got someplace you're trying to get to, it's the house to be in."

"Well, hopefully that's the one I'll be in... wouldn't it be cool to be in the same house?"

He turned around fully in the grass, face serious.

"You don't want to be in Slytherin. Trust me. It's fine for me _now_ , but it was horrible starting out there. If you give any sign you're from a Muggle background, any at all - which we pretty much _are_ ," he said, sour tone resurfacing, "everyone will go after you. You'll get teased and bullied and made fun of, and nobody will want to be your friend."

Ray stuck out her chin defiantly, but before she could say anything, Douglas went on:

"Trust me, Ray, it's not fun. I -" he hesitated - "I almost wanted to leave, you know, in my first year, it was so bad. It's not worth trying to tough it out when you can have an amazing time in any other house. When they put the Sorting Hat on you, I want you to think ' _not Slytherin'_ , okay? ' _Not Slytherin_.' Just repeat it, over and over in your head, no matter what the Hat tells you."

"What the Hat tells me?"

"Yeah. I shouldn't be telling you about the Sorting -" he said, the ghost of a smirk flashing across his face - "it's supposed to be a bit of a surprise, you know, so you don't know what to expect and it all goes properly, but everyone tells their sisters and brothers anyways. And this is important. Okay?"

"Okay…"

"Good. Trust me, Ray, I want you to have a good time. Really. It's loads of fun and you don't want anything getting in your way."

"Okay, okay. So. Er, what are the other houses?"

"Well," Douglas said, relaxing back on his elbows and looking up at the darkening sky - "There's Ravenclaw, you know, where all the nerds go. They've got Professor Cogito as the Head of House - she teaches Transfiguration - then Gryffindor, who's got Professor Smith. He does Defense. Then there's Slytherin, who's with Professor Byron, and he does History."

"Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Slytherin... that's not very many houses. Do you have an idea of what one I'll be in?"

She saw a grin appear on his face.

"Oh, I've got an idea, but I'm not saying anything."

"What? Come on!"

"Nope, you're going to have to worry about it, just like everyone else. Only make sure you say ' _not Slytherin.'_ "

"Yeah, yeah…"

So either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.

"And there's always one or two Hufflepuffs, of course -"

"What's a Hufflepuff?"

"It's, uh, someone that doesn't fit into any of the houses. They're rare, so if you happen to be one you either get made fun a lot or are really popular, depending on the kind of person you are. As in, you're either an oddball-social-outcast, or somebody special enough to have gotten into any one of the houses, and everybody wants to be your friend."

"What happens to them?"

"They just get put into one of the Houses along with everyone else. It's a numbers thing - they try to keep it split in thirds, but it doesn't ever come out that way. Slytherin's usually got the most, while Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are pretty neck and neck. Ravenclaw usually gets a bit more."

Douglas yawned.

"So, Professors Cogito, Erwin, and Byron?" she said. "What about Professor McDonnell?"

"She does Potions. You don't have to be the Head of House to be a professor, you know… there's loads of professors that - that -" he yawned again - "that just teach."

They sat in silence for a little while, Ray rolling the chicken egg around in her palm as the black shapes of bats flitted around above the trees.

"Well, how 'bout we head inside, huh? Early morning," he said. "Mum wants the chores done first thing, right?"

"Right... Oh! That reminds me, I was supposed to get Seb's bed ready for you!"

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine taking the couch."

Ray gave an inward cheer. "Are you sure?" She asked, knowing full well he'd already committed to the idea.

"Yeah, no biggie."

They stood and headed back toward the house - Badger and Roady had already gone off to the spot in the yard they liked to sleep in - then hung out with everyone in the living room and watched TV for a while. Seb was taken to bed before too long, and once their parents said goodnight and left too, Ray got up and brushed her teeth.

When she wandered back to the living room Douglas was already asleep, laying there on the couch in his work clothes, with his arms up on either side of his head (he'd been watching TV with his fingers laced behind him).

Suddenly, something in his coat pocket gleamed. It was a long, dark, polished stick of wood, projecting out slightly over the edge of the couch... his _wand_.

Pausing in her brushing, Ray crept over to him and, telling herself it was just to make sure he didn't accidentally roll onto it in his sleep, pulled the wand out the rest of the way from his pocket. Her fingers tingled where she touched it, and the wood reflected the light of the TV. There was something _alive_ about it, she could _feel_ it. She swiped it through the air, and a stream of bright gold ribboned out!

Choking on her toothpaste, she set the wand on the ground and frantically tried to think of what to do. The gold ribbon hung there, almost like it was made of smoke, and she waved at it with a hand. Fragments broke off and fell, fading into nothing before they hit the carpet. Her pulse thumped, even though it was strangely beautiful.

After a minute it was gone completely, and Douglas was none the wiser. Nudging his wand closer to the crook of the couch (where the wand would have fallen anyways if it'd slipped from his pocket), she then stood turned off the television, gave Douglas's sleeping form a last glance, and went back and finished up in the bathroom.

 _Magic._ She was finding it hard to make herself stop smiling.


	7. Douglas (Part 2)

She didn't sleep very well. After going to bed her thoughts had wandered to what was waiting for her the next day: going into the wizarding world for the first time, visiting magical shops, and seeing real-life witches and wizards out doing their business.

What would it be like? Would the shops have aisleways and fluorescent lights like the ones she knew, or would they be something like you'd see in a story - underground complexes, maybe, with items stacked on shelves in dug-out alcoves, and roots and spider webs hanging from the ceiling?

By the time Ray's alarm went off, she'd already woken up once and had had to fall back asleep again. So it was that when she _actually_ got out of bed, she was groggier and grumpier than she would've been otherwise, but all of that went away as soon as she saw Douglas snoozing there on the couch. Having him home, and having them planning to do things together that day, was such a new and exciting thing for her that she actually put the on the wrong pair of shoes on her way out the door thinking about it. It felt like Christmas.

Halfway through her chores, too, another unusual thing happened: she was paid a visit by a large, brown owl, who took her a second to recognize as Turing.

He'd perched on a fence post while she restocked hay for the sheep, and when she went over to him she saw he was carrying a rolled-up newspaper in one of his feet. When she took it, he bent his head forward and let her to brush the tips of his fingers through the feathers on his head, closing his eyes serenely.

There was so much magic in the air, that by the time the sun broke over the trees and she'd finished her chores, she was practically ready to run inside and jump on Douglas to get him awake. Fortunately for him, however, he was already up - he and their mother were in the kitchen, he doing paperwork while she cooked breakfast.

"Are you ready? When can we go?" Ray practically shouted, scrambling out of her boots.

"Did you finish your chores?" her mother asked.

"Yes!"

"And you put out the salts?"

"Yes, yes!"

She smiled at Douglas.

"Well, you can head out after you've had some breakfast, and woken up a little..."

"I'm already awake!"

She laughed. "Yes, but you _both_ need to be awake, Ray."

"She's right," Douglas said. "Besides, most of the shops don't open for an hour or two, and I'm going to need a cup of coffee. Probably ought to go for two, now that I think about it…"

He knocked his papers together and packed them into his briefcase, then shook open the wizarding newspaper. "Thanks for bringing this in, by the way!"

"Yeah, sure!"

Not knowing what else to do and still brimming with energy, Ray sat down at the table and stared at him through the paper, fighting the urge to fire off questions.

Douglas looked to his coffee - the surface was bouncing with small, tight ripples, as though it were on top of a speaker.

"Ray... are you vibrating?"

"Oh, am I? Sorry, I don't know!"

Suddenly, unable to help herself, she began asking questions.

"Am I going to get my wand first? Is there anything I should know when we get there? How am I supposed to act around everyone? What do witches and wizards do when -"

"Hey hey, calm down!" He laughed, tossing the newspaper on the table. "Everything will be okay. There's going to be a few new things, but you'll catch on in no time!"

Ray stood, then went into the living room where Seb was watching cartoons, then came back into the kitchen.

"And you'll be getting your wand a bit later in the day," Douglas said, watching her bemusedly, "but you're not allowed to do magic outside of school just yet."

Ray had figured as much. Magic was probably pretty dangerous, and it wouldn't due to have a bunch of kids going around turning things into elephants.

"Do you need any help cooking breakfast, Mum?" She asked.

"No, I'm fine, everything's just about ready. Ray, howabout you..." she searched for something to occupy her.

"Ray, do you have your letter?" Douglas volunteered. "It's got a list of your things."

She froze. _Her letter._

"Er, yes... uh, one second."

She went down the hallway to her bedroom, enthusiasm draining. Her backpack, an old green one with tan straps, was slouched at the end of her bed, bearing the pieces of her letter inside. It was weird, seeing something she was so familiar with just slumped there like it was any other morning, when it contained something so very valuable and tragic.

Ray pulled the envelope and took it with her back to the kitchen, preparing herself to see the remnants up close.

"I, um," she said, suddenly feeling like she was about to cry - "the letter got... well, it got torn -"

"Oh, honey," said her mother, "I'm sorry, what happened?"

"I was showing it to Jordan and Heather in the schoolyard, and -"

"You brought it to school?" Douglas said, something sharp in his voice. She might've imagined it, though, as it wasn't there the next second. "It's alright. Go on, let's see it. Put it on the table."

Ray did as he said, slowing her breaths and pulling each of the half-sheets out into plain view. Douglas reached into his pocket and took out his wand, catching her and their mother's attention.

He raised the gleaming wood over the pieces, gave a flick, and muttered, " _Reparo._ "

As if by strings, the matching halves of the sheets floated toward each other and lined up along their torn edges. They restitched, merging together again as though small, invisible zippers were travelling along their tear lines, then fell back to the table, whole once more.

"You fixed it!" Ray shouted. "Oh, thank you, Douglas!"

"No trouble," he said, grunting and sticking his wand back in his pocket.

Ray picked up the pages, marvelling at how the words flowed smoothly down their entire, whole pages again, then sat down with them at the table and carefully put them back in their envelope.

A moment later, breakfast was served: tortillas, eggs, black beans, cheese, and salt and pepper.

"It's build-it-yourself," their mother said. "Seb! Come join us at the table."

Seb hesitated, clearly wanting to stay in front of his cartoons, but rushed over anyways and began scooping eggs onto his plate.

"Here, Seb, let me help you," their mother said.

For Ray, breakfast went unbearably slowly. Now that her letter was mended she had a renewed sense of excitement, and it was getting stronger by the minute - which, unfortunately, made every second they sat there nothing short of agonizing.

Ray watched as Seb's little burrito was wrapped, and then wolfed down so he could hurry back to the TV. She then served herself and ate three burritos in the time it took Douglas and her mother to eat one each, and she stared at them as they took their time talking about the family sheep, of all things, which she just now realized was one of the most boring things in the world. Their father passed through on his way out the door at one point and grabbed a single, massive burrito that had been readied for him (which Ray thought was a brilliant idea which could've worked for her and Douglas as well).

Then, finally, Douglas finished the last of his food, sighed, glanced at the newspaper again (which almost made Ray smash her fist onto the table, but thankfully he just folded up and stuck it in his pocket), then said they ought to get going.

Ray leapt to her feet. "How are we travelling? Do you have a car? Are we going by broomstick?"

Douglas laughed. "No, no, nobody goes by broomstick. Go and get your backpack - make sure there's plenty of space for your things - and I'll meet you out in the driveway."

Ray did as he said, rushing to her room and dumping her things onto her bed - she could worry about them later - then considered if she ought to change, but decided not to worry about that either - and sped out of the house after Douglas, shouting goodbye to their mother.

The morning had warmed a bit now with the sun higher in the sky, but the air still had the same freshness to it from earlier. Douglas was wearing his suit-robes and carrying his briefcase, and stood there waiting with Badger and Roady circling around him.

"You got your letter? Okay, now grab my arm, tightly, and don't get sick -"

As soon as she grabbed onto him, everything whirled around her - the sky and the yard and the driveway went spinning on all sides, and she was squeezed, compressed, felt like she was being pulled through one of the rubbery tubes for the tractors, and then -

She popped into a messy apartment.

Stumbling, she clung onto Douglas to catch her balance.

"WHAT WAS THAT?" She shouted.

"That," he grinned, "was _Apparition_. Going from one place to another, instantaneously. And please, try not to be so loud, some of the neighbors might still sleeping..."

Ray blinked and looked around the apartment. At first, she thought it was just like any messy old place, but the more she looked around the more she realized it was unlike anything she'd ever seen.

The coffee table and furniture seemed to have been grown, rather than manufactured and assembled. The pillows and cushions were made of green and tan shaggy fabrics that very well could have belonged to animals one point (one of which Ray even thought she heard squeaking for a moment), and there was a miniature sun floating in the middle of the ceiling providing light, with actual solar flares and a glowing corona.

There were dirty dishes left about, of course, but they were anything but normal: a black bowl with some leftover soup was still steaming, even though it looked to have been abandoned for hours and the soup had congealed to a paste; an empty blue mug had a mist drifting out of it like a freezer that had just opened; a plate on the coffee table had a fork on top that was lazily swaying and scraping through a bit of sauce, looking as though it were bored.

There were TV screens all over the wall, too, which weren't emitting any light, and that Ray realized after a moment were actually _posters_ , as in _paper-and-ink_ posters, with broomstick riders and saluting men and crowded rock-concert amphitheaters with the people all alive and jumping and moving around, though without making any noise. In the kitchenette were a few potted plants trying to outdo each other for the sunlight coming in through the window (aside from one with yellow highlights, which was curling and relaxing its vines happily), and directly opposite the couch was a large, circular window set at about stomach-level, which gave a peculiar view of the room on the other side.

"Alright," Douglas said, "my room's over here. Sorry about the mess."

Ray was speechless.

"You live here?" She finally managed. "This is amazing! How is that sponge cleaning dishes without anyone telling it what to do? Are those glowing mushrooms coming out of the carpet actually alive? And what is -"

There was a bang, and one of the cupboards that had been rattling in the kitchen burst open and three large, spindly blue bugs came buzzing out into the room, which fled around the corner after seeing them standing there.

"Damn, he still hasn't gotten rid of the pixies..." Douglas muttered. "Well, they've gone in his bedroom, so maybe that'll help him get a move-on. Right then, you got your list?"

"Um, sure - pixies?" she stuttered, following him around to his room.

Douglas's door was directly opposite his roommate's (who was apparently not in) in a stubby alcove branching off the living room, and upon entering Douglas swiftly closed it again ("To keep out the pixies," he said).There was still a bit of mess, but it was mostly reserved for clothing - Douglas was obviously putting _some_ effort into keeping things organized, as there were boxes and filing cabinets and towers of neatly-stacked papers here and there all over the floor. There was definitely a 'Douglas' scent to the room, too - not stinky, necessarily, just definitely his.

"Hold on, your room looked different through the window..." Ray noticed.

Douglas's room was mostly gray, blue, and white, but what she had seen of it through the window in the livingroom had been all warm, woody colors.

"Oh, you must mean the Looking Glass. That was a mirror, actually, one-way, which shows a bunch of different reflections depending on what it's connected to. Er… think of it like a wizarding television."

" _A wizarding television?_ "

Douglas smiled, enjoying Ray's enthusiasm.

"Alright, we've got a schedule," he said. "You got your list?"

"Oh, yes -"

She pulled it out. Douglas came over and peered over her shoulder, eyes navigating the page with familiarity. The writing had the same sharp, slanted look to it as the acceptance note, as though whoever had written it tended to write quickly and worry about readability later. Starting at the title, Ray read down the page:

 _Supply List for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (FIRST YEARS)_

 _UNIFORM_

 _First Years will require:_

 _Three (3) sets of plain black work robes, non-permeable to witchwater (but otherwise uncharmed),_

 _Two (2) sets school uniform*, including button-down collared shirt, tie, vest, slacks and/or skirt, socks, and black boots,_

 _One (1) set flying robes (uncharmed),_

 _One (1) winter cloak*,_

 _One (1) pair protective gloves (dragon-hide or similar)_

 _*Specifications Page and Order Forms attached_

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All First Year students must have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells: Year 1 (5th Edition)

 _by Miranda Goshawk_

A History of Magic: Volume 1 (3rd Edition) (Revised)

 _by Bathilda Bagshot and Antoine Lockhart_

Magical Theory (4th Edition) (OPTIONAL)

 _by Adalber Waffling, Samuel Clementine, Rose Burdish_

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration (8th Edition)

 _by Emeric Switch_

An Introduction to Potion-Making (2nd Edition)

 _by Plato Flulique and Amanda Cowell_

The Gathering and Storage of Magical Ingredients (RECOMMENDED)

 _by Alice McDonnell_

The Magical Garden: Year 1 (3rd Edition)

 _by Arborus Rykk_

Magical Pests and Pets: Control and Moderation of Urban and Domestic Creatures

 _by Zoovius and Tally Selvan_

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (OPTIONAL)

 _by Newt Scamander_

Avoiding and Evading Disaster: A Guide to Self-Defense

 _by Donte Donarko_

 _COURSE MATERIALS_

 _First Years will require:_

 _One (1) wand_

 _One (1) cauldron (pewter, Standard Size 2)_

 _One (1) set glass or quartz vials (including stoppers and capsules)_

 _One (1) set brass scales_

 _One (1) telescope ('Moon' grade or better)_

 _Students may also bring:_

 _One (1) owl OR cat OR toad_

 _Pet Application must be sent two weeks prior to term (form available upon request)_

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

Ray's heart had fallen. There were a _lot_ of materials, and she couldn't imagine them being particularly cheap. She stared at the last line. All that clothing, all those textbooks, and _then_ a flying broomstick? They couldn't be inexpensive, certainly. And how much would a "Standard Size 2" pewter cauldron be? Or a _wand_ , for that matter? A wand would probably be the most expensive thing on the list, if you were expected to use it everyday for everything for the rest of your life!

Hesitantly, she looked up at Douglas.

"Right," he said, checking everything over again, "let's start with the textbooks. I don't think I'll be needing my copy of _A History of Magic_ \- there'll be editions on reserve at the library, of course, and it would be good for you to have one for yourself - and I'm pretty sure I've still got my first year transfiguration booklet around here somewhere."

"Are we sure we'll be able to afford all these things?"

He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Oh, no, no way, but the good news is we definitely won't be needing it all. For example, I never used my flying robes at all, and all those 'optional' and 'recommended' books can be written off right away - sorry, Professor McDonnell. Then there's the telescope - pretty expensive, but only used intermittently during the classes, so you'll be able to share with your partners. I've also been talking to a few friends and think we might be able to get some other stuff for free too."

"Your friends will just... give you their things?"

"Well, kindof… it's like doing favors, you see. Networking and all that. By giving me things they no longer use, not only are they clearing away some of their junk, but they also put me in their debt so they can call for a return favor when the time comes. Don't look so horrified, that's just how you do things as a Slytherin! I promise, it's nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly all that ever happens is the you both acknowledging that they've done a favor for you, so now you owe them. It's like trading, but… with the things you think about, and the decisions you make. Anyways, let me look over here… you want to help me search these boxes?"

Ray wasn't sure if she liked what he was talking about, but trusted he'd been doing it for long enough to know what he was getting into. Not saying anything, she went over to the closet with him, where there were three boxes stacked atop one another.

The first box contained a bunch of rolls of thick, off-white paper and a few chunks of wood that were partially coated in a number of things: yellow metal, fur, and dried clay being a few. The second box had a number of books, one of which was Douglas's old transfiguration booklet - a sixth edition instead of the eighth, but he said it would work just as well. There was also a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells: Year 2_ , which he said she ought to hold onto for next year, as well as _Hogwarts: A History,_ which he insisted she take and even encouraged her to read, even though they both knew she probably wouldn't. The third box had two large jars of what looked like pond water, which Douglas had forgotten the purposes of, but still felt they should be held onto in any case ("I'll remember at some point, I know there was a reason…").

They continued the search of his room, Ray giggling as the stacks of paper scuttled out of their way whenever they got too close, and eventually found Douglas's copies of _A History of Magic_ ("It's your copy, now, along with the rest of it!"), and a set of glass vials, which had some dry residue in their bottoms.

"That can all be cleaned out with witchwater or Toad Slime, it's harmless," he said.

"What's witchwater?"

"Oh, right, er... it's one of the standard bases for potions. You know how Mum likes to use chicken broth in her stews? It's like chicken broth."

"Okay… and what's Toad Slime? I thought toads weren't slimey."

"Well, you're right - it's actually frog slime, not sure why they call it that."

"And why's it better than dish soap or something?"

Douglas laughed.

"Well… dish soap _might_ work the same, but you can't exactly find Crystal-Clear Dishwasher Soap from the supermarket in magical Britain. So they use Toad Slime. Plus, it's great for absorbing magical residue, like if there's a few drops of a dangerous potion left over, or if there's a charm that wasn't erased all the way with ' _Finite Incantatem'_ , which is a standard counter-spell."

Douglas also had a decent amount of old clothing: two work robes, one of which was singed at the base ("works just the same, though!"), and two sets of school uniforms, with three extra pairs of socks. He loaded these as well as his books - _her books, now,_ she thought with a rush of excitement - into his briefcase, which Ray hadn't gotten a proper look at until now.

It had four clasps, one on one side and three on the other. Depending on which of these he unlocked, the contents of the briefcase changed (the still-locked clasps remaining attached to the base, as though they were never attached to the top at all). The first compartment held paperwork for his interning at the Ministry, the second, spare clothes and personal hygiene items, and the third, some books and rolls of paper, which he unpacked onto his desk to make room for her things.

"I'm saving up for another section," Douglas said. "You never think you'll need all this space, then one day it's filled up."

Once everything was secured (he'd had to use a bit of pressure to get the lid to close), Douglas had her check off the thing they'd gotten on her list, which she realized happily was a bit more than she was expecting. He then held out his hand, and Ray's nerves rushed in anticipation.

"Where are we off to now?"

"To a friend's. Just a hand should do this time, we're not going far."

She took his hand and the room whirled around her, everything tightening, squeezing, pressing in on her -

They popped out onto a sidewalk in a neighborhood. The day was warmer than before, and the sky a bit bluer.

"I'm impressed you're handling it so well," he said, as she took a step to brace herself. "Most people lose their breakfasts at _least_ once."

Ray felt a small surge of pride, but tried not to show it. "Won't, er, people notice, if we go Apparating all around town?" She asked.

"Normally, yeah," Douglas replied, "but we're in a neighborhood that's just witches and wizards, so we're safe."

Instead of setting off down the sidewalk, Douglas took out a journal and scribbled something down, then stood there watching the page. A moment later, he looked pleased about something and thumped it closed.

"Okay, we're good to go. Come on, now!" He said, cheerfully.

They went three houses down to a purple house with a lovely garden. Now that Ray was starting to know what to look for, she could see hints of magic everywhere: some of the flowers looked just a bit too fiery to be normal, and beneath one of the hedges she could have sworn she heard tiny voices shushing each other.

Before the two of them got to the door, a pretty girl about Douglas's age opened it from inside. She had straight, black hair, skin that was even darker than Jordan's, and a dazzling smile.

"Morning, Douglas!" She said. "And you ought to be Ray - my name's Rachael, if Douglas hasn't told you. Well, come on inside!"

Rachael's home was very tidy, and looked like something Ray had seen once in a furniture magazine. Following Douglas's lead, she left her shoes at the entryway, then followed him and Rachael further into the house.

"Would either of you like some tea, or biscuits?" Rachael asked, taking them up a carpeted stairway. "Mum's in the kitchen getting some snacks together."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, but we won't be able to stay long," Douglas said.

"Busy day? Well, hopefully you'll stay long enough to catch up. Are you all excited for Hogwarts, Ray?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Do you know what house you'll be in?"

"No, and Douglas isn't giving me any hints."

Rachael laughed. "Well, nobody really knows for certain, do they? But if you get into Ravenclaw, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

"You're not in Slytherin?"

"Nope!"

They went into Rachael's room, which was a bit busier than the living room but just as well organized. There was a large desk along one wall, which (instead of a laptop like Ray would've expected) contained a detailed anatomical drawing of the human body, three or four textbooks lined up with their golden titles gleaming along their spines, and a roll of the same off-white paper Ray had seen in Douglas's boxes. Next to the paper was a large, white feather, resting in an inkwell.

"I've got four skirts that might fit you - one of them might be a bit big - and then a winter cloak and a few textbooks. I might have written some notes in their margins, just so you know!"

Rachael had placed the clothing and textbooks neatly on her bed. The books looked to be in even better condition than the ones Douglas had given her, and Ray certainly didn't mind if she'd written some things in their pages - odds were, judging by the neatness of her house, they would probably be useful.

She _had_ been hoping for some shorts, however, but she wasn't about to say anything.

"Want to go try on the skirts in the bathroom? It's just down the hall."

Ray thanked her and did so, leaving the two of them to catch up on their summer. As it turned out, the skirts were an excellent fit for her - two of them were a bit large, but she'd probably grow into them before too long.

Forty minutes later (Douglas and Rachael had a lot to catch up on, and Rachael was enjoying giving sideways hints to Ray about what to expect at Hogwarts), they were back out on the sidewalk. Rachael had managed to push a jam-covered biscuit onto both of them before they'd left, and Ray was munching hers happily while Douglas scribbled something down in his journal again.

"What are you writing?" She asked.

"Hmm? Oh, um, Adam," he said, distracted. "Alright, ready? Hold on a bit tighter this time."

Douglas crammed the biscuit in his mouth and grabbed her hand, then they went somersaulting through the air again and landed in a dark, musty bar.

"Where are we now?"

"The Leaky Cauldron - one of the oldest wizarding pubs in London. Let's see… ah!"

Douglas spotted a red-haired boy a bit younger than him, who was wearing tan robes and writing in his journal at a table across the bar. After waving away the bartender (who had wandered over questioningly), the two of them approached the boy, who stood up as soon as he noticed them.

"Hey, Douglas, good to see you," the boy said. He seemed a bit sweaty, and brushed his bangs out of his eyes nervously.

"Good to see you, Adam. Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes - fine, just Auntie, you know - I'm on a bit of a tight schedule at the moment -"

"That makes the two of us. Do you have everything?"

"Yes, right here," Adam said, lifting a sack out of the chair next to him.

In it was a large, metallic pot, which Ray took to be a cauldron, that had a pair of thick working gloves and set of coppery measuring scales stuffed inside. Douglas extracted the gloves and examined their outsides for wear, then held the hand-holes up to his eye so he could peer at their innards. Ray noticed they looked a bit scaley, and wondered if they were, in fact, made out of dragonhide.

"Everything look okay?" Adam asked.

Douglas sighed. "Yes, I think these will work."

"We square, then?"

"Square."

They shook hands.

"Right, if you'll excuse me -" Adam tucked his journal into his robes, made his way around the table, then without even looking at Ray, strode from the bar.

"I hope everything's okay," Ray said, looking after him.

"Oh, he'll be fine. He just tends to bite off a bit more than he can chew. All part of the learning process, you know."

"Uh, sure… so, where to next?"

"Howabout we have a sit-down for a minute," Douglas said, looking around. Ray noticed he seemed a bit tired. "Let's have another look over your list…"

Ray took a seat as Douglas ordered something called "butterbeer" from the bartender. He let her try a sip, and even though she didn't like carbonated beverages much, the warm, happy mood that came over her made it obvious why he'd chosen it.

They'd actually done really well on collecting things. She now only had three textbooks left to get: _The Standard Book of Spells, Magical Pests and Pets,_ and _Avoiding and Evading Disaster._ Then there was just the telescope, wand, and flying robes.

"And you'll need to get a few more things for Potions, those vials are only part of the full set. Then there's the standard supplies - parchment, quills, all that."

Parchment, as it turned out, was the thick, off-white paper she'd been seeing all day.

"And it's made out of _animal skin?_ "

"That's right - they use bicorns, which are about twice the size of normal cows, and sometimes eat people."

"WHAT?"

"Well, they only ever go after happily-married husbands - it's a bit strange, I know - so it doesn't happen too often. Not because, er, marriages tend to be sour or anything, but because it's easy to work around."

She stared at him. "Well, okay."

Ray had pretty much given up trying to understand things at this point. She was sure - well, she hoped, really - that she'd get familiar with everything in time.

Once Douglas finished his drink, Ray jumped to her feet again, eager to see the magic shops.

"Where are we going now?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Diagonally?"

"No, Diagon _Alley_ \- it's a wizarding street, packed full of magic shops and all sorts of things."

"Is it close?"

There was the ghost of a smirk. "It is, actually, but we'll need to go get some money first."

"Money? As in, from a wizarding bank?"

"Well, no… there _is_ a wizarding bank, but we don't have a vault… we're going to an organization that donates funds for school supplies. You might have heard Mum talking about it?"

"I don't think so -"

"Ah, well, it's not far. It's just downtown, on Autitha Way, which is another wizarding road. More of a major wizarding avenue, actually - very modern, lots of construction going on -"

Douglas seemed to be perking up.

"Everybody in my department's losing their heads about it right now," he said. "It's what we've been working on the past few years and things are finally starting to pick up speed. Once it's finished it's going to be one of the biggest wizarding hotspots in England, mark my words. People are gonna forget Diagon Alley even exists!"

Douglas was obviously very excited about this.

"And it's right in the middle of downtown London? How do they hide it from people?"

"Concealment wards and repelling charms," he said, smiling. "C'mon, I'll show you!"

They went to a clear space in the middle of the bar. Douglas gave a friendly salute to the barman, grabbed Ray's hand, and whirled them away.

* * *

==Events in Magical History==

Alice's broom, the _Nimbus Ranger_ , was one of three brooms introduced by the _Nimbus_ manufacturers within a single year, the others being the _Nova_ and the _Stormforger_. This was done in a desperate attempt to keep up with the _Firebolt_ series, which had been dominating the market for nearly a decade up until that point. This shotgun-style approach to competition caused a lot of sleepless nights for broomstick engineers, and made many of the _Nimbus_ employees (nearly 17% in fact) take the year as a wake-up call that, no, they weren't getting any younger, and it might be time to get going on whatever childhood dream they'd put on the back-burner.

However, the _Ranger_ was enormously successful and put the _Nimbus_ makers back on top, where they've been moderately comfortable ever since. Their nearest competitors (the makers of the _Firebolt_ and, after a surprising comeback, those of the _Silver Arrow_ series) do occasionally pass them on the charts, but as Mr. Zoldik would tell you, that's just economics.


	8. Douglas (Part 3)

Once again, Ray popped out onto a sidewalk. Immediately, she sheltered her eyes with a hand - the sun was astoundingly bright after the gloom of the bar, and all the glass and brightly-colored stonework around them wasn't help matters.

Once her eyes adjusted, Ray saw what Douglas meant about the street set to become a major wizarding hotspot. The road was broad, freshly-cobbled, with two lanes ready for hoards of traffic and parking spots slotted diagonally down both sides. Both their sidewalk and the one on opposite them were large enough to accommodate bustling crowds travelling in both directions, and were interspersed with tall, white trees bearing leaves of every color.

All up and down the street were the shells of soon-to-be-filled buildings standing at the ready, although half of them were still concealed by scaffolding and protective sheets. A few had teams of construction workers outside their fronts, the workers wearing bright purple reflective gear and hovering big pallets of materials up and down in the air. The whole place had a very "outdoor mall" feel to it, and Ray could sense that once things were filled in, there would be a lot of very expensive, high-quality items sold here.

Some buildings were already in place, one of which (seemingly the busiest) had _The Ministry of Magic_ set above its entryway in big, stone lettering. People were constantly popping and cracking into or out of the air along the sidewalk next to it, and unlike the rest of the street, there were a good number of cars parked out front.

The second busiest place stood out quite a bit from the rest of the buildings: the walls were painted a deep, burnt purple and had "G & F" set above the entryway in large, gold lettering. The inside of the shop was absolutely packed - a few clusters of people had even spilled out onto the sidewalk, and each and every one of them were talking to one another in a lively fashion or pointing and looking in through the windows.

Rather than either of these places, however, Douglas took Ray's hand (she thought they were about to go somewhere else for half a moment) and led them to a narrow building on the corner, labelled _The Potter Foundation_. It was a simpler building, with a design that definitely did more to help it blend into the background than stand out and impress.

As they passed between the clusters of people outside the deep-purple building, Ray saw a number of kids her age looking in at the window display, noses pressed up against the glass.

"You see that?" One of them said excitedly - "A map-page! Changes as you walk, to wherever you are!"

"Must cost a fortune!" Said another.

"What is that place?" She asked, trying to peer over the kids' heads.

"Oh, that's Gred and Forge's," said Douglas. "They're the biggest writer manufacturer on the market right now - which I suppose makes sense as they're the ones who invented them."

"Writer manufacturer?"

"Oh, er, yeah. Writers are little books you can use to write messages to your friends. Bloody useful, you know. Standard issue at the Ministry."

Ray realized that the journal Douglas had been scribbling in all morning was probably a writer too.

Once inside _The Potter Foundation,_ Ray and Douglas found a middle-aged woman sitting at a desk. Ray wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but the inside of the place looked rather normal for somewhere that was supposed to be magical.

"Good morning," said the woman.

"Morning," said Douglas. "I think we might have an appointment…"

The woman checked her books, confirmed they did have a meeting, and after a brief wait in the spindly chairs by the entrance, Ray and Douglas were called into an office by a balding, hook-nosed man.

"So, you're Ray!" The man said, friendly, with a twinkle in his eye. "And you're starting your first year at Hogwarts?"

Ray nodded. "Yep!"

"Now, it looks like this is your family's first visit to the Potter Foundation, is that right?" He asked, turning to Douglas.

"Right. We've only just discovered it."

"I see. And you're out of Hogwarts by now?"

"Seventh year, actually."

"Ah, still a bit late then, I'm afraid. We're only able to provide funding up until the third year - sometimes the fifth, in special circumstances. So, to Ray, then - you have your forms?"

They sat down, and Douglas took a few papers out of his briefcase and handed them over to him. After a few questions and a search through his books, the man pulled out a slip of parchment and scribbled out a signature with a large, white feather, then had Douglas sign something, which he filed away.

"You'll want to take this over to Gringotts," the man said, handing over the slip. "They've just opened an extension across the way, if you didn't know!"

"I did know, actually! I've been interning at the DBI over the summer and have heard all about it. It's going to be a sight more convenient, won't it?"

After thanking the man and leaving the office, Douglas steered Ray across the road to an imposing, marble-white building front with "Gringotts" carved above the entrance in black letters. There were two pillars on either side of the entryway and an imposing wooden door, but once inside things seemed fairly normal - that was, aside from the people working there.

There were only three of them, and each and every one seemed to be suffering from an unusual type of dwarfism. Now, Ray had seen people with similar figures before, and her mother had very strictly told her to treat them just the same as she would anyone else. Of course, if Ray _had_ treated them just the same, she would have asked why they were so short, but it was clear from her mother's instruction that that was exactly what she _wasn't_ to do.

So it was that when they approached the teller - who, on top of everything else, had an enormous nose, sharp jaw, jagged teeth, and surprisingly pointy ears - Ray donned an expression of polite indifference, and tried to keep herself from staring.

"Hello, there!" Douglas said. "We're here to make a withdrawal."

The teller scowled at him. "I will need the account information, as well as your wand, sir."

Douglas delivered the slip of parchment and presented his wand, which was set upon something that looked like a weighing scale. The teller grunted, then turned and said something that Ray was _sure_ wasn't english to the person working just behind him. The person hopped off their chair and strode across the floor, then disappeared through a set of impressive doors at the back of the workspace.

A few moments passed, where Ray tried not to look anywhere at all. Douglas had taken to his journal - or writer, she supposed - and the teller glowered down at her, seeming to think it was perfectly acceptable for him to do so, when it really made her feel quite uncomfortable. She thought the third worker must be staring at her as well, for she hadn't heard the feather they'd been writing with scratch in a while. She was just considering taking off her backpack and setting it on the floor for something to do (her backpack _was_ heavy with all her books and cauldron and everything), when the second worker came striding back through the doorway, carrying a plump brown sack in their unexpectedly long-fingered hands.

"Funds for one school year," said the teller, bringing a heavy stamp down on the slip of parchment and filing it away. He picked up the bag and scooted it across the countertop to Douglas, who swept it away and, to Ray's surprise, bowed.

"Thank you very much, and I hope you have a pleasant day."

The teller said nothing.

Douglas turned and left the building, Ray following after him hurriedly. As soon as they were out on the sidewalk, Douglas spun around and grinned at her mischievously.

"Well, how did you like them?"

"Who? The… bank workers?"

He laughed. "Yes, the bank workers, what did you think?"

"What, about them…" she hesitated - "...being short?"

"Ugly brutes, aren't they?"

Ray's jaw dropped.

"DOUGLAS! THAT IS _SO RUDE!_ "

Douglas roared with laughter, doubling over and slapping his knee. Immediately, Ray began to pummel him.

"Stop!" She cried. "Stop laughing, it's horrible! You're _horrible!_ "

"They were goblins, Ray!" He finally managed. "Goblins!"

She paused, still furious. "Goblins?"

Still laughing, Douglas stood. "Oh, Mum has raised you well," he said, wiping at his eyes. "Yes, those were goblins, not even human. And you shouldn't worry about being rude to them, you ought to hear the things they say about us!"

"I don't care! It's still awful to talk about them like that, and just after we've spoken with them!"

"Ray, it's okay, really. Those things used to make snacks out of human children, for Merlin's sake."

That took Ray aback.

"It's… it's _still rude,"_ she stuttered.

"Okay, I'm sorry, alright? It was just a bit of fun." He shook his head, still grinning. "And man, your hits are a lot stronger than they used to be."

They set off down the sidewalk, Ray having to walk a bit faster to keep up with him. They were approaching the Ministry of Magic, and as they got nearer more and more people were cracking into or out of the air around them.

"What are we going in here for?" Ray asked.

"We're taking the Floo."

"The what?"

Douglas didn't respond, instead leading her up the stairs and inside. The Ministry of Magic had a much grander entryway than the other buildings, and immediately upon entering, Ray's jaw dropped.

The walls and ceiling opened up to an enormous entry hall, bordered on either side by rows of giant, ornate fireplaces all burning with emerald-green flames. A ways down the hall was a large fountain with four golden statues of figures of varying size, all spouting water, but she didn't get a chance to get a closer look - Douglas steered her off to the side, where he began instructing her amidst the hustle of people.

"Okay, so we're travelling by Floo to Diagon Alley. We're going to be going into one of these fireplaces - relax, they're harmless, see the green flames? - and I want you to hold onto me as tight as you can, okay? You wrap your arms around me, and hug me like you're trying to break me in two."

"What? Why?"

"It's a bit different than Apparating, and I don't want you getting banged out into who-knows-where. So hold tight, okay?"

"Okay…"

Douglas took her hand and pulled her toward the green flames. Ray should've been concerned about stepping into a fire, but she could tell the flames were, indeed, harmless - after all, they really should've been cooking her at this distance, but all she felt was a warm breeze.

Douglas stepped into the flames and pulled Ray in after him. Immediately, she did as he said and clung tightly to his waist.

"Diagon Alley!" He stated, his body vibrating against her ear.

The flames rose up around them and they started to spin. Ray suddenly felt like she was getting washed down a water-park slide, but instead of water around her it was ash, smoke, and green fire. She had the impression she was passing through a great many places - there were snippets of sounds, brief flashes of conversations or music, and as she squinted out through the tendrils of flame she saw a bunch of different scenes - maybe a living room, maybe an office, but they went by much too fast for her to make sense of any of them. At one point her ankle smacked against the inside of a chimney, and she pulled herself in tighter to Douglas, but a moment later there was a billowing roar and they were disgorged from the flames.

They stumbled onto a stone floor, having arrived below a great outdoor archway. There were two other fireplaces like theirs dug into the leg across the archway, and one right next to theirs, but the fires only turned green when someone came out or tossed powder into them.

Ray dusted herself off and looked around. They had come out by a cobbled road, but not cobbled as Autitha Way had been: instead, it was with knobbly, differently-sized stones that you'd probably trip on if you weren't paying attention. The building faces along the roadside were different, too, in that they were anything but regular: some of them projected out over the street with their roofs and beams, some of them were recessed and had little outdoor sitting areas, and some looked much too big for the plot they'd been given and had had to settle in like squished water balloons. Every doorway held a hanging sign, and every sign had the name of the place written on it (although one or two just had symbols or figures painted on with no words at all). Where there weren't doorways or windows or tables and chairs, there were barrels of beetle shells, stands of colorful fabrics, posters of bizarre silver instruments, and baskets of twisted roots. Clumps of people milled about, either haggling with the stand attendants or strolling along and talking to one another about the latest wizarding news. It was the messiest, strangest, and loveliest place Ray had ever seen, and she was pounding with the urge to go sprinting off and explore every single thing she could get to.

"Well, here we are," Douglas said. "Diagon Alley."

He led the way forward, and Ray hurried after him. She ran first toward one shop, then back to Douglas, then another again, bouncing all over the place like a pinball.

"Apothecary?" Ray read. "What's that? Slippery Jim's Legal Service? Salamanders and Firebrush? The Third Eye? Flourish and Blotts? Madame Ma-chang's Magical Things? What are all these places?"

"Magic shops," Douglas said simply. "Pretty crowded in together, as you can see. This place is an absolute nightmare a bit closer to the school year - sometimes it gets so packed you can't even see the other side of the street, let alone get anywhere."

"I think it's fantastic. Where are we going first? Are we going to get my wand?"

"No, wand'll probably be last. We need to put your robes in for tailoring - it'll take some time, and we can shop around while we're waiting. C'mon, this way."

Douglas led the way up the road. As they went, Ray seemed to draw the attention of the shoppers - one woman with a long nose gave her a quizzical smile, then a group of three men paused mid-conversation to look at her.

"Why is everyone staring at me?"

"Probably because you're wearing a pink t-shirt with the Manchester United logo on it."

"What, they don't like soccer?"

"No, it's just that they're very obviously Muggle clothes."

"What is a Muggle, anyway? I forgot to ask."

"Non-magical person. Okay, stop here."

They had come to a branch in the street. One way continued on toward an enormous, marble-white building, while the other sloped downward toward a dingy, dark line of shops. As Ray looked down the gloomy road, she felt a small prickle on the back of her neck, as though there was a hidden danger lurking somewhere amongst the piles of rubbish and dusty windows.

"We're going into that shop, got it?" Douglas said, pointing to a lit-up window just a few doors down. "This is Nocturne Alley, and the shops down here specialize in poisons and curses and all sorts of nasty things. Never come here unless you're with me or somebody who knows what they're doing, got it? There's a lot of shifty people that hang out down here."

Ray's eye went to a figure in the distance who was wrapped in robes and smoking a pipe, who she thought might be watching them.

"Okay, stay close to me. Let's go."

Ray followed him, part of her wanting to grab his hand, but unfortunately she was on the same side as his briefcase. However, they managed to reach the shop in no-time, and were back in a well-lit (although a fairly worn-down) waiting area once more. As they entered, the shop's bell tinkled overhead.

A moment passed, then a skinny, frazzled looking woman came out from the back room. She stood across from them on the other side of the counter, and Ray couldn't help notice her wand sticking out of her pocket, ready to be pulled at a moment's notice.

"Good afternoon," the woman said, studying them blearily.

"Hello," said Douglas. "We're here to get some robes altered for school."

"For the both of you?"

"No, just my sister here."

"Ah," said the woman, taking her in. Ray saw her eyes wander over her t-shirt.

"First year?"

"Yes," Ray said, softly.

"Well, step over here," said the woman, gesturing with a hand to a platform beside the counter. Ray thought she sounded a bit curt, but maybe it was just how she was.

"My name's Mrs. Pove," the woman said, tossing a measuring tape toward Ray. She went to catch it, but it twisted in midair and stretched along the length of her arm, then coiled and went down her side, moving about as if it had a mind of its own. "Best stay still, dear. And spread your arms and legs, so it can work around you."

"Okay," she said. "My name's Ray."

Mrs. Pove nodded. "Ray. Good name, that. And the robes for tailoring…?"

"Here," said Douglas, hoisting his briefcase onto the counter. "Now, most of these are my old robes -"

"And you'd like them refit for a girl?"

"You got it. There's also a few skirts from a friend that might need to be sized down, but if they'll only be a bit big there's no need to worry about them."

"No problem," Mrs. Pove said. "I've had my fair share of Hogwarts students over the years. I'm impressed you lot were able to find me, though."

Douglas paused.

"...You lot?" He asked, tone suddenly icy. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Mrs. Pove hesitated. Ray saw her eyes flicker to her Manchester United shirt again.

"Nothing," she said. "I meant no offense. It's just rare to have students come in so early before term begins, is all."

Douglas continued watching her, eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you'd get more customers if you weren't so far off the main road. The quality of the shops down here, you know... some would say they were better avoided. That it might be better to do business elsewhere."

"Yes, sir," Mrs. Pove muttered. "Quite right. Perhaps I'll be able to afford the move this year…"

A few minutes later, once their order was all squared away, Ray followed Douglas back up into Diagon Alley.

"You were rude to that lady," Ray said.

"I was no more rude than she deserved. It's important to treat your customers with respect, you know - if she was a bit better about that, perhaps she'd get more business."

"What did she do?"

"You heard her, making accusations that we were Muggle-born. Honestly…"

"But… we are, aren't we? Practically?"

Douglas was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes, I suppose so. But it's not something you want to be talking about. And it's _definitely_ not something that's polite to bring up."

Ray didn't push it any further. They followed the curve of the road, passing a great deal of shops, and a minute later came into full-view of the enormous marble building again.

"What _is_ that place?"

"That's Gringotts, the main one. It's really impressive in there, too - I went with a friend to their vault once, got to ride in a minecart with them all the way down through the tunnels. There's miles of tunnels down there, you know. Caves too. You could spend the rest of your life trying to get out if you got lost."

" _Does that happen?_ "

"Only if you don't have a guide. You need a goblin escort," he said, shooting Ray a grin.

Douglas took Ray to a shop for general school supplies, which was fully stocked and almost empty of customers. Aside from them was just a mother and her boy, who looked a few years older than Ray and only glanced at her once before going back to browsing feathers.

The feathers, as it turned out, were called "quills," and Ray thought they were incredibly stupid.

"I don't care, I want a pen," she said, after Douglas told her she'd be made fun of if she took Muggle things out in class.

"Look, quills really aren't that bad once you get used to them - you don't have to sharpen them all the time like pencils, and it's better to write at a deliberate pace, which you need to do when working with an inkwell."

In the end, Ray allowed Douglas to get her a box of fifteen quills and a small ink kit, which was the most basic set and definitely not going to last her the full year. "Oh, I'm sure it will, as I won't be using them," Ray said. She also had a number of parchment rolls forced on her - "The professors assign by length, they won't accept regular paper," Douglas told her - as well as a drawing compass, an ink remover ("See, a pencil would just be easier," ), a spool of ribbon to keep her scrolls together, and a few other odds and ends.

They then went back the way they came down the street, stopping only once to adjust the things in Ray's backpack.

"Take everything out," Douglas said.

"What? Why?"

"I'm going to put a charm on it. It'll only be a temporary one, but it should last us the rest of the day and I can fix a permanent one tomorrow."

Ray did as a he said, arranging all her things in a neat pile right there on the road. She wouldn't have been able to do it during the year, of course, but right now the place was a "ghost town."

"There's really such things as ghost towns? With real ghosts?

"Yeah, one or two, i think. Probably more that nobody knows about. And yeah, ghosts are definitely a thing - they're all over Hogwarts, as a matter of fact."

"How come I've never seen any?"

"Well, you've never been in a magical area, have you? There aren't any ghosts hanging out in Muggle parts. Partly because Muggles can't see or hear them properly - and that would make things pretty boring, I would imagine - but also because ghosts don't have any reason to go there. Unless they're feeling prankish, which is rare."

"But what about… ghosts of Muggles? Muggle ghosts?"

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "Muggles don't leave ghosts, Ray."

"What? Why not?"

"Beats me. Most people say it's because they don't have souls."

Ray was taken aback.

" _WHAT?_ "

"That's just what most people say! Try not to worry about it too much. It's probably not the case, but if it is, it won't be affecting you, will it?"

Ray gave a bewildered laugh, at a loss of how to respond. What about their mum? What about their dad? Well, not their _real_ dad, (or blood-related dad, that was), but -

"Okay, your pack's ready."

"Huh? Er, what did you do?"

"Undetectable Extension Charm. Now you can put a load of stuff in, and you'll barely notice the difference."

"But... what happens if the charm ends, and there's more things inside than could have fit originally?"

"Not sure," Douglas said, frowning. "It'll explode, I guess. Tear apart and have your stuff go spilling everywhere. Never seen it happen."

Ray definitely didn't want _that_ to happen. She rather liked her backpack.

"And you'll fix the permanent one tomorrow?" She asked, loading everything in.

"Yeah, I'm pretty bushed today. Side-Along Apparition can get rather exhausting. You know, we ought to look into getting you a proper bag..."

"What are we doing tomorrow, anyways?" She asked, shouldering her backpack.

It really did feel empty - she even looked around to make sure she hadn't imagined putting all her things back in. "Mum said you wanted to do something with me?"

"Yeah. Hold on, let's go in here."

They entered a shop that stank so heavily of must and brine that it made Ray's nose wrinkle. Douglas made for the back after nodding at the counter-attendant, who was sitting down and labelling jars full of gross-looking animal parts.

"We're going to a festival in Godric's Hollow," he said over his shoulder.

"Where's that?"

"West. It's a wizarding town, pretty famous. I want you to get some exposure to things before jumping into the school year."

"Oh - it's just, I've got a study group planned with my friends, is the thing."

She stopped for a moment to look at a tank of sea anemones that were all growing squid tentacles instead of the regular kind, then hurried after him.

"Study group? For your Muggle school?"

"Yeah, I've got my SATs all next week!"

"You're still worried about those?"

"Of course I am! Shouldn't I be?"

Douglas shrugged. "It's good to be worried about grades, I suppose, but your Muggle ones aren't going to count for much."

"So you're saying I should just blow off the study group?"

"It's up to you. I don't think it'll do much good for you, honestly."

"You mean Hogwarts doesn't care about my tests?"

He laughed. "No, I can't imagine they do."

They stopped in front of a shelving complex full of glass jars, vials, bulbs, and a number of bins that were all loaded up with stoppers and corks of varying size and function.

"Well, what about my friends?" Ray asked. "I can't just not show up, Jordan and Heather are expecting me."

"Like I said, it's up to you. The festival's going to be going on for a while and we can show up later if need be. But, you know, your friends - they're going to have to learn to get along without you."

Ray's mind stuttered. That wasn't how she'd been thinking.

"Are you going to keep in contact with them over the year?" Douglas went on, browsing the labels.

"Well, duh, of course I am!"

"How are you going to do that? You'll write them letters by owl?"

"If I have to, yeah!"

"You _will_ have to. There aren't too many ways to communicate with people outside of Hogwarts, Muggles in particular. They're not going to have the slightest idea of anything you're doing, you know - it's all going to be nonsense to them. You'll be learning how to become a witch and do magic, and they're just going to… well, go on with their own things. You're headed down different paths." He glanced at her. "Might be a good idea to start thinking about how to say goodbye."

Ray hesitated. Say goodbye to Jordan and Heather?

"Here, grab five of these," Douglas said, pointing to some tiny glass jars, "and get the matching size of stopper. Use the brown ones. The red, woody ones are better, but they're way more expensive."

They emerged from the potions shop twenty minutes later, Ray's things boxed and packaged safely in something that looked like blue Easter grass.

"Well, what do you say?" He asked. "I think we can take a slight detour. Want to get your wand?"

Ray's face lit up.

"YES!"

Douglas smiled and led her to a blue, rectangular building, which was so ordinary that it stuck out like sore thumb from all the ones squeezed in around it. The white paint of the trim was peeling, and the display window was underwhelmingly simple: nothing more than a single, unassuming wand on a faded velvet pillow, and the word "Ollivander's" painted in white on the glass.

As they entered, they came face to face with a young, square-looking witch, who wore narrow glasses and had maroon hair tied back in a tight bun.

"Oh, terribly sorry," the witch said. "I was just about to close up."

"You're closed?" Douglas asked, astounded.

"Yes, store hours are eight to four on Saturdays," she said, pushing them back through the door. "Terribly sorry."

Ray's eyes widened.

"Couldn't you stay open just for a bit?" Douglas asked. "We're only needing the one wand -"

"Please!" Ray pleaded.

"No, sorry, the store is closed. We'll be open tomorrow through Wednesday at normal hours - the schedule is given next to the door - please, have a nice day. Sorry again."

She shut the door in their faces.

Ray's breath came in heaves. She felt like she was about to cry, not just because of the wand, but because of, well, everything. She looked to Douglas, whose mouth was tight.

"Well," he said, "I guess there's tomorrow. We can stop here before heading to Godric's Hollow."

Ray took a few breaths and watched as Douglas went over and read the store hours. She was _really_ trying not to cry, which sometimes made it even harder not to.

"If you're still wanting to do your study group, and you think you can get done by four, we should have an hour to come here and get your wand before they close." Douglas said. "The festival might be slowing down by then, is the thing... or maybe it'll be picking up? I'll have to look over the details again, it could be that the main event doesn't get going until after nightfall."

Ray gulped, getting herself under control. "Is there… is there another wand shop?" She asked.

Douglas shook his head. "No, you need a quality wand, and the only place to get that is Ollivander's. Sorry, Ray. Come on, we can still get your books, then your robes should be finished by the time we're out."

He started walking again, and she was just about to follow him when the store bell tinkled behind her.

"Er, excuse me?"

Ray whirled around - the witch had stuck her head out of the doorway.

"Are you here for a replacement, or are you getting your first one?"

"My first one!" Ray said.

"Yes, first one," said Douglas.

The witch's head disappeared, but Ray could hear her voice calling into the depths of the shop: "It's her first!"

There was a pause, as the witch listened to whoever was speaking to her. Ray's heart thudded.

"Yes, very much so," the witch said, then, "I know, but… really? Are you sure?" She paused again. "Well… okay, your choice."

The witch reappeared and beckoned them to the door.

Ray took a sharp intake of breath and sped toward her, then forced herself through the doorway before the witch could close it on her again. Douglas walked in after her, much more calmly.

The inside first reminded Ray of the basement at the public library: lots of dust, silence, and things filed away in boxes and drawers. There was the waiting area, in which Ray, Douglas, the witch, and several spindly chairs were situated, then the desk, which had a number of thick, white binders on it, and a doorway behind leading to another room. There were also two doors on either side, one of which had _New Wands_ written on it, and the other, _Replacements_.

"You'll have to wait here for a moment," said the witch. Then, mumbling to herself, "Might as well..."

She went to her desk and took out a measuring tape. She tossed this toward Ray, who immediately straightened and held out her arms and legs.

The witch's eyebrows raised as the tape did its work. "Smart girl."

"Muriel?" Called a voice from the back room.

A tall, spindly man came out, who was wearing a large pair of glasses that magnified his eyes several times over, and had hair that looked like he'd just gotten electrocuted. He was old, probably in his mid-seventies, though Ray sensed there was something youthful about him.

"Muriel, you're free to go," said the man, taking off his large glasses and sticking them in his pocket. "I think I'll be able to handle things from here."

"Well, if you're sure," Muriel said, who wasted no time in nodding to Ray and Douglas and heading out the door.

"Ah," he said, coming around the desk and shaking a finger toward Douglas, "you're, er, your name was... well, let me see, you came in four years ago -"

"Six, actually."

"Six, was it? How the time flies... you're, er, Harold…?"

"Douglas."

"Right. And it was a blackthorn…?"

Douglas pulled out his wand. "Mahogany -"

"Mahogany, twelve and a half inches, blackberry stain," the man rattled off, as soon as the wand came into view. "Unicorn hair, narrow but strong, good for charm work."

Douglas smiled. "You got it."

The man turned to Ray. "And here we have our new witch. Muggle-born, i take it?"

Ray saw Douglas stiffen.

"Yes," she said, "...but my father was a wizard."

"Right, right. Well, welcome to the world of magic, young lady," he said, smiling kindly. "My name is Mr. Ollivander, but you're welcome to call me Odo if you wish."

"I'm Ray."

"Ray. I shall try to remember. Well, shall we head back?"

Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers, and the tape measure sprang into a roll and hurled itself back onto the desk.

"Er, okay," said Ray. She looked at Douglas.

"Go on," he said, drawing out his journal and sitting down in one of the chairs. "I'll just be here."

"You don't want to come?"

"Oh, no, I need to check up on some things for the Ministry. Besides, you're only going into that room there," he said, gesturing to the _New Wands_ room. "Feel free to leave your backpack, though."

Ray did so, shrugging it off her shoulders and setting it into the chair next to him. She then turned to follow Mr. Ollivander, who was waiting there with the door held open.

The wand room was cramped, compared to the waiting area: every wall but one was stuffed with tiny, narrow boxes, which were squeezed and stacked so high that only the pressure from the ceiling seemed to keep them from toppling over. It felt like a dusty, papery cave more than a room, and Mr. Ollivander barely had enough room to stand up straight.

"So, Ray," he said, looking over a slip of parchment he'd pulled from his pocket, "what kind of wand would you like?"

"What kind of wand?"

"Yes. What kind of wand do you think would suit your magic? What types of things would you like to do with it?"

Ray frowned. "I'm not sure. Just schoolwork, I suppose?"

"Think of it this way," Mr Ollivander said, stuffing the slip back in his pocket and looking over the boxes, "say you were out with your friends, outside of school, and were allowed to do magic. What kind of things would you want to do?"

Ray thought for a moment, watching him as he perused the room.

"Cool stuff, maybe... make trees grow, or fill up ponds if they've dried out. Make dragonflies grow really big. Travelling would be fun, I suppose, like being able to go wherever you want and create any food or supplies you need instead of carrying them with you. I'm not sure, what kind of things are possible?"

"Hmm, hmm… perhaps that was a bad question. Howabout this. If I were to, say, ask Douglas out there to describe you, what sort of words do you think he'd use?"

Ray hadn't thought about that either.

"...Or your friends, perhaps?"

That was easier.

"That I'm proud, or stubborn. That I like to get good grades, but I get in trouble a lot. That I'm always there to help them if they need it."

"And are there any kids you don't like, who tease you or say hurtful things? What do you not like being teased about?"

Ray thought of Cole. "Well, I certainly don't like when people call me _stupid…_ "

Mr. Ollivander frowned. "No, I don't think you're a Ravenclaw…"

Ray's ears perked up.

"Do you think I'll be in Gryffindor?"

Mr. Ollivander went over to the walls and started pulling out boxes, each of which left a box-shaped hole.

"It's hard to say," he said, crouching down and pulling some out from the bottom of the stacks. "Perhaps a Slytherin…"

Douglas wouldn't like the sound of that, Ray thought with a grin.

"Here, let's get you started on some of these."

He brought three or four boxes over to a little tea-table in the middle of the room.

"Try this one," he said, unpackaging a wand. "Juniper, pheonix feather, great for spell work."

He handed it to Ray, and she took it tentatively. It was made of a soft, pink-colored wood that was striped with tree-lines. Mr. Ollivander pointed her to the bare wall, which had a very faded bulls-eye on it and quite a few color splotches and scorch marks all around. At the base was, of all things, a gutter and drain, as though the room might get flooded on occasion.

"Well, go on," he said, "give it a flick!"

Ray did so, feeling a bit awkward about it, and an unpleasant sparkling sensation ran through her fingers.

Mr. Ollivander pulled it from her and quickly replaced it in its box. "No, no… here, try this one instead. Ash, sturdy, good for transfiguration…"

She flung the wand forward and a long, black slug squeezed out the tip, which plopped on the floor and began slithering around like a snake. Both Ray and Mr. Ollivander scrambled backwards, but fortunately it went for the drain at the base of the wall and disappeared. Mr. Ollivander grabbed that one back, too.

She tried the rest of the wands with no luck, then stood there shiftily as he went around plugging them back into the walls and muttering to himself.

"Fifteen inches, no, definitely not," he said, starting to pick out a new selection. "Orange varnish on this one, eh? Perhaps, perhaps… dragon heartstring, good… no, not beechwood, I don't think… Ray," he said suddenly, "let's try that first question again, what kind of wand do you want? Do you want one that will help you explore; one that's good at helping you understand something (like a spider or the mechanisms of a clock); or one that you can use to show off your talents to your friends and impress people?"

"Exploring sounds nice, but I'm not sure. A reliable one? One that can do powerful things and won't fail on me, if that's a something that happens?"

"Powerful," Mr. Ollivander muttered, crossing to the opposite wall and pulling out more boxes still. "Powerful, reliable… perhaps holly… yes, this might do…"

He came up and piled a good deal of wand boxes on the tea-table, and Ray went through them. Some of the wands sent out puffs of green smoke or whistled obnoxiously, which Mr. Ollivander tugged away immediately, while others did nothing at all. A few felt pleasant to hold or made her fingers tingle like Douglas's had, but none of them were deemed sufficient by Mr. Ollivander. She had no idea what he was looking for.

He was just about to hand her a stubby chestnut wand when Ray interrupted him.

"Sorry, Mr. Ollivander, could I try that one again?"

There were five wands all piled on top of each other, not even put back in their boxes.

"Of course, my dear, the nine inch skrewt tail?" He asked, sounding a bit exasperated.

"No, the longer one, that felt a bit rough."

"Oh -" he frowned. "That one? Are you sure? I was thinking I might've boxed it up before finishing it, to be honest, it's not even varnished…"

He handed it to her nonetheless, and after a moment, Ray knew it was the right one. It felt comfortable in her grip like none of the others had, and the more she held it the more it felt like it belonged with her. There was something about it that felt right, like it helped her magic _flow_ , which was a most peculiar sensation and not one she'd ever had a name for before, and only now that she was here and looking for it did she realize what it was.

Ray brandished the wand at the wall and made a swooping motion. Suddenly, a breeze washed through the room, bringing an incredible scent - one that reminded her of a freshly-mowed field of grass on a lovely, sunny day, when the weather was perfect for taking off at a run in any direction at all.

That was her. She had done that. That had come from _her_ magic, she had felt it.

"Well, how about that," said Mr. Ollivander. "May I see that wand, Ray?"

She was reluctant to give it up, but handed it over to him.

"I really like that one," she said earnestly, "like, really like it. I think it's perfect for me."

"Yes, yes, this is definitely the one for you." Ray's face broke into a smile. "I must learn how to replicate that smell, positively exhilarating... That said, I never would have picked this one as yours. It's not particularly built for power, and it would've done better for someone who was a bit more, well, even-tempered, if you don't mind me saying so." He chuckled. "Well, there you go, the wand choosing the wizard."

"The what?"

"Just... something one of my old relatives used to say. _The wand chooses the wizard_. I, for one, don't believe wands are sentient, or make conscious decisions or anything like that - but there _is_ a certain truth to it. Each wand is special, Ray, every wand unique, and each one only works best when paired with the person most suited to it.

"And, now that I'm looking at it, I do believe I knew what I was doing when I boxed this one up. If I'd done anything else, the wand's performance would have only suffered. It was as good as it could have gotten, exactly when I stopped working on it... eleven and a quarter inches, willow, very responsive and flexible. _Very_ flexible, in fact, I think the deflection was over an inch and a half before it showed even the first sign of stress! Well, here you go, then… it's yours."

Ray took back the wand and felt a rush of energy. This was it - all the school books, all the equipment, all the worries about her letter and the marks she got on her tests, all of it felt unimportant next to this. She was a _witch_. She could do _magic_ , for real, no question about it anymore - she'd felt it run through her, felt it inside her, ready to be called and used at a moment's notice, as much a part of her as her bones or her blood.

She and Mr. Ollivander exited the wand room, and Douglas looked up.

"Woah, what's with the look on your face?" He said. "If I didn't know any better, I'd be positively alarmed right now!"


	9. Sophia

Nathaniel said nothing. His father spoke, his mother argued, and he said nothing. It wasn't like anything he said would have mattered, anyway - his father was much too set on things to be persuaded one way or the other. That didn't stop his mother from trying, though, but as the weeks wore on, her shrill worries and concerns wore down to a simmering anxiety.

"What about the monsters?" She asked.

"There are no monsters, dear, only wild animals that can use magic, same as Nathaniel, and they certainly aren't very common. Think of it like London - how often do you see pythons, or grizzly bears, coming down Tottenham Court Road?"

That had quieted her, but Nathaniel had still been instructed to look into the matter himself. He read his textbooks, _Magical Pests and Pets_ and _Fantastic Beasts_ , which were delivered one morning by a portly, friendly man at his father's ordering (along with the rest of his books, all of which the man gave enthusiastic verbal synopses to, to which Nathaniel didn't pay attention). As it happened, there were more than a few bizarre creatures in the magical world, but very few of them were directly harmful, and certainly none of the ones you'd find in more populated areas. The most dangerous were those that occupied abandoned buildings or tucked themselves away in hard-to-reach corners, and as Nathaniel certainly wouldn't be going into those places, they weren't really of any concern.

"And the kidnappers and muggers that might come after him? They won't know about you, dear, they'll only see his money!"

"There are no muggers in school, Sophia. Besides, by the looks of things, Hogwarts seems to be one of the highest-security places in all of Britain - you can't even _look_ at it if you're not allowed!"

Nonetheless, Nathaniel began defensive lessons with a thin, sinister-looking wizard by the name of Mr. Graves. These lessons happened six times a week, accompanying those he already took in the mornings with Sensei. The ones Mr. Graves taught, however, focused on dark and dangerous magics, which did things to Nathaniel that gave him nightmares every night for over a week before he got used to them.

Shortly after this week, at Mr. Graves's suggestion (as well as his mother's, which Nathaniel found mildly amusing as he never would have guessed two so different people would have ever agreed on anything), Nathaniel was fit with a wand.

"The other children will be years ahead of him," said his mother.

"Yes, and it is highly unusual for someone with a family background - er, similar - to the young Mr. Zoldik's, to not have already had some practice in these matters," said Mr. Graves.

Of course, a wand was also one of the required items on Nathaniel's list of school materials, and after assurances by Mr. Graves that they would fall under no legal reprimand while he was there to supervise things, Nathaniel's father consented to purchasing one. So it was that, one afternoon, a witch with narrow glasses and maroon hair rolled up in a carriage pulled by a frightening, skeletal-looking horse (which Nathaniel thought he recognized from one of his school books), carrying an inventory full of long, narrow boxes.

His father laughed. "How did you manage to not be seen?"

The witch smiled. "I took the back roads," she said, simply.

And so Nathaniel was matched with his wand. After witnessing his first few feeble magics, his mother's concerns rose again, and Nathaniel spent many evenings listening to her worries and the reasons she gave as to why he might not enjoy spending his year at Hogwarts.

"They won't have any electricity," she said.

"Your phone won't work, and you won't be able to access the internet."

"You'll only be able to eat school food."

"None of your friends will be coming with you... wouldn't you rather go to Magdalen, or Westminster, instead?"

His mother addressed a lot of worthwhile concerns, but Nathaniel kept his responses brief and noncommittal. He really _was_ going to miss having the internet and access to all the comforts of modern life, but there was something else pulling at him - not a reason, per se, at least not a practical one that his mother (or even his father) would have taken as such, but it was there, and the closer it got to the end of summer, the more okay it made Nathaniel with leaving his phone and the internet behind.

The feeling was strongest when he was laying in bed by the light of his tablet, the paper man sitting on his shoulder watching him swipe through the windows. The paper man, who inexplicably moved without any source of power, who looked up at him with its flat, blank face when Nathaniel held it, who copied his movements just out of sight in the bushes during his training sessions with Sensei. How did it work? How was something like it possible, how did it exist? And why did it feel so… normal, or acceptable, to him?

Nathaniel felt it, too, when he thought back to the visit with Mr. Stynes and Professor McDonnell, and every time he saw one of the strange witches or wizards come by for a meeting with his father. There was something almost _familiar_ about these people, something in the way they did things, that he felt he belonged to, and when it rose, he knew he couldn't just pretend he'd be okay living a normal life. Well, he probably _could_ , but he knew he'd always be wondering what was happening elsewhere - what his life would have been like in the magical world. It was like when he was reading a particularly good story, and he wished he were a part of what was going on in the tale - that he was a friend of the protagonist's, that he was joining in with them on their adventure, that he was, just, someplace else, anywhere at all, doing something amazing. And here was his chance.

So, really, even though he didn't have a choice when it came to where his father wanted to put him, he was actually on-board this time. Sure, the internet wouldn't be at Hogwarts, but he could still take along physical copies of his books… Mr. Graves had even managed to get a hold of a small, magical briefcase that went down nearly three and a half feet when opened, which was plenty of room for all of Nathaniel's stories as well as his entire set of school equipment and clothing.

"Won't you miss it here?" Asked his mother. "Won't you miss all of your friends, or your father and I?"

"I will, Mum. I could try to write you letters…"

That made her brighten.

"Letters? They have a way to do that? Oh, that would be fun, wouldn't it? You ask Mr. Graves what the procedure is next time you see him, okay?"

He did so, and three days later a wizarding aviculturist came by to deliver a sharp-looking, steel-gray eagle owl that his father had picked from a catalogue.

"Well, how about you choose a name, son?" He said, cheerfully. His father had seemed unprecedently cheerful recently, his speech quick, full of stutters, and his movements full of jerks and twitches, as always happened when he got excited.

Nathaniel thought for a minute - "Ferrous?" He proposed.

"Ha! Good one," his father said, giving him a rare pat on the shoulder. "Ferrous it is!"

Ferrous was given a small room in Nathaniel's wing of their manor, which was remodeled to have its windows removed, a place for Ferrous to sleep, and a sturdy, weather-sealed door to keep the outside environment separate from the rest of the building. They thought about putting in new floors, too, but ended up just adding a weather-proof layer on top of the one already there that could be hosed down by the housekeepers when it came time for cleaning.

"And you'll write us every week, okay?" His mother said.

"Come now, dear, we can't have Nathaniel spending all his time thinking about life back home in normal society! Once a month ought to do, but don't push yourself, okay? I want you making friends and learning all you can about the wizarding world!"

Nathaniel nodded. His father had really been pressing that matter - "Make friends!" He'd said, almost every night at dinner, when he remembered Nathaniel was sitting at the table with them. "They're not normal people, so you're going to have to put in a bit more effort than you usually do! Remember, networking is the key to success!"

Everything was the key to success. Organization was the key to success, friends were the key to success, presentation was the key to success. Nathaniel would try, of course, his father expected it of him, but he'd never really had to put any effort into making friends, so he wasn't too concerned. Usually, people wanted to be friends with _him._

On the morning of the first day of school, Nathaniel, his mother, and Hass were driven to King's Cross (his father not accompanying them, as he was already busy with work). There, they met with a grinning man wearing a colorful, pinstriped suit and carrying a large card that had "ZOLDIK" written across it (Nathaniel's family was far too used the eccentric clothing of the magical world to raise any eyebrows at this point), and they were led through a particular archway to enter the station. When going through this, Nathaniel had to grab ahold his mother's hand, as she seemed to veer away from it like a repelled magnet every time they got near.

When they all finally did make it through, the interior of King's Cross transformed into something completely unexpected: gone were the normal crowds of surly, frowning people trying to catch a lift to work for the day, and in their places were commuters wearing an air of festivity. Everyone was dressed in the standard odd clothing and robes of the magical world; there were cats and owls milling between legs and sitting up on top of protruding abacuses of the stone pillars; and the entire station had been painted over in warm and friendly colors.

"Look at this place," his mother said, eyebrows drawn together in disapproval. "It's absolute chaos, how does anyone expect anything to get done?"

Sure enough, it wasn't just the disorganized crowd that was different: the platforms themselves were all over the place, arranged irregularly at varying heights and distances from each other. They passed Platform Three and Four-Fifths, even though there hadn't been a one-, two-, or three-fifths (let alone a Platform One, Two, or Three), then a Platform Four and Two-Thirds, Platform Seven and a Half, Platform Seven and Three-Eighths, Platform Eight and One-Sixth, and then, finally -

"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters!" Their guide announced, stopping and bouncing on his heels as they took in the sight.

His mother and Hass gazed around at the crowd of excited parents and children, both of them wearing the same grim expression. Nathaniel's face was neutral, but inside he felt the same as the paper man, who had just stuck its head out of Nathaniel's breast-pocket: curious. These were his first steps into a different world, a different culture, and Nathaniel would finally be doing something his father knew very little about, and couldn't possibly plan out every detail for him. Nathaniel was going to be doing things at his own discretion, without having someone take him every step of the way, and it gave him a whole mix of emotions - nervousness, excitement, insecurity, freedom. This could very well be where his own adventure began, where his own story finally started being written down.

"The Hogwarts Express will be departing in fifteen minutes," said the man. "Shall I show you to the first-year cabins?"

"Yes," said his mother, lips tight. "Take us there."

They set off.


	10. Rachael

Ray and Douglas popped out onto a barren patch of earth next to a grimy stone wall.

"You, there, move along now," said a man, standing on the sidewalk just outside the patch. "There'll be more arrivals coming in any minute now, you need to clear the area!"

Still holding Douglas's hand, Ray heaved her trunk and followed him out onto the sidewalk. They'd apparated in just around the side of King's Cross, in one of the few secluded corners that could be guarded against observation by normal people.

"So, we won't be seen, even if they're looking right at us?" Ray asked.

"You got it," Douglas said, casting his eyes around the crowd of commuters. "While we're on that dirt, there. I think."

"Who are we meeting with?"

"Rachael, her little sister, and my friends Nort and Samson."

"How old is her sister?"

"Fourth-year. Sorry," he said, flashing her a sympathetic smile. "But there'll be plenty of other first-years to make friends with."

"Oh, I'm not worried. Besides, who says I can't be friends with a fourth-year?"

Just then, a voice called out: "Douglas!"

It was Rachael. She and her sister were walking over from the parking lot with their parents, who were all looking quite excited.

"Ah, King's Cross!" Boomed their father, clapping his hands together. "Brings back memories, doesn't it? And who might you be, then, Douglas's sister?" He asked.

"Yes," Ray said, as Rachael have Douglas a hug.

"Good to see you again, Ray," Rachael said, smiling.

Her sister waved politely. "Hello, I'm Lizzie."

"Good to meet you!" Said Ray.

"Well, shall we grab a trolley?" asked their father.

"Yes, let's do that," said Douglas, thumping his writer closed. "Just got a message from Nort, he says they're waiting on the Platform."

"He and Samson together?" asked Rachael.

He grinned. "Aren't they always?"

Ray and Douglas hauled their luggage into the station with Rachael and her family, where they found a trolley after a bit of search and loaded up their things. Rachael's father took charge, pushing it further into King's Cross, while Ray walked along somewhat shiftily: Douglas had fallen into conversation with Rachael, while Lizzie was listening in on what their parents were saying. Not knowing what else to do, Ray listened in too.

"You see Rachael's coursebook on Magical International Relations?" Said their father. "I didn't even think about trying to take that class. I really should have, though - would have helped me get through my NEWTs a lot easier, I tell you that. But I couldn't stand another year of him! Such a bore."

"Yes, i'd had quite enough by the fifth year," agreed their mother. "But I do wonder where he went!"

"Are you talking about Professor Binns?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes," she said. "He was the only History of Magic professor for nearly a century, then up and disappeared one day. Did a great job at making sure everyone got out of his classes as soon as they could, but I never thought he'd give up the subject himself - have they found out anything more about him?"

"I don't think so. Some people thought they saw some of his writing on the chalkboard last year, which made everyone who thinks he's just gone invisible and started ignoring everyone get excited, but there's been no real sign of him. Most people think he's just left, and might be out there haunting his old grounds or something."

"Sorry, who is this?" Ray asked. "Did you say he was professor for a _century?_ And that he turned himself _invisible?_ "

"Oh, he's a ghost, you see," said Lizzie. "Hogwarts has loads of ghosts, and he was working as a professor up until just before -"

"Oi!" Douglas interjected, sternly. "Let's try _not_ breaking the International Statute of Secrecy, shall we?"

"Up until just before my first year," Lizzie whispered.

Rachael pushed Douglas. "You're so serious!"

"What?" He said, expression turning to a grin. "This place is _packed_ with Muggles! Honestly. At least wait until we're through," he said to them.

"Through to where?"

"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"Nine and Three…?"

"You won't have long to wait," their father said, nodding ahead of them. "We're here."

Ray looked up: Platform 9, barrier, Platform 10. She looked back at Douglas.

"Uhhh…"

He was grinning like he was after showing her the goblins.

"Let's have Ray go first, shall we?" He said, practically bouncing on his heels. He came over and caught her by the shoulder, steering her to face the barrier.

"Okay," he said, "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters is right on the other side of that wall. All you have to do... is just walk through it."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Subtly. Make sure you don't attract the attention of any nearby Muggles."

She frowned at him, waiting for an actual explanation, but his grin told her he was having one of his jokes. Well, fine. If he wanted her to make a fool of herself, she'd just have to get through whatever the riddle was as quick as she could.

Walking up to the barrier, Ray inspected it, touching it here and there: it was very solid, no matter what angle she came at it. She looked back at everyone and took account of the looks on their faces: everybody from Rachael's family was watching her bemusedly, while Douglas was smiling from ear to ear, arms crossed, as if holding in a laugh.

"You're winding me up, aren't you?"

Douglas shook his head - "Nope! Just gotta walk through it. And be quick about it, the train leaves in thirty minutes."

From the looks on everyone else's faces, he must've been telling the truth. She knew Douglas could carry on with a joke as long as he wanted, but didn't think Rachael or her family would play along as much.

Well, there was nothing for it. Bracing a foot against the wall, Ray pushed forward to try and step through - and, as if sinking into murky water, her boot did indeed slip into the metal, before the wall pushed it back out again.

"Look at that!" Ray said.

Douglas laughed.

"Nice going!" Said Rachael's father.

Ray pushed her foot in and out again, then decided to try walking through. If it really was like forcing yourself into mud, or a hedge, perhaps, she'd just have to plow into it like she was playing American football.

Ray distanced herself a few paces, then strode forward, and managed to sink about three inches before stumbling back out again, to Douglas's laughter.

"Might want to try going at it at a bit of a run," Rachael suggested.

Trusting that Rachael was being sympathetic toward her, Ray took her advice and went about ten paces back. She then walked forward toward the wall, quicker, broke into a run - the cold metal was getting nearer and nearer, Douglas was going to be howling with laughter if she didn't make it this time, she knew it - she lowered her shoulder, prepared herself to bash straight into the unforgiving surface - but she didn't, the resistance wasn't even there this time, and before she knew it, she was through.

She came plodding to a stop on a noisy, colorful, bustling platform, full of witches and wizards and cats and children. All sorts of magical objects bobbed around in the air following people, trunks crawled after their owners on tentacles or floated around after them on clouds, and young kids around Seb's age whizzed by on miniature flying broomsticks while their parents chased after them.

Looking behind her, she saw the barrier again, solid as ever, but suddenly Douglas, Rachael, and everyone emerged through, all of them smiling at her.

Ray stuck her arms in the air in a victory-pose.

"WHOO-HOO!"

* * *

Nathaniel's mother looked away disapprovingly from the family that had just appeared through one of the walls, and returned to straightening his collar.

"I'll have to change into my school uniform soon," Nathaniel reminded her.

"That's no reason to let yourself look unkempt," she said. "But I suppose I am just being a bit fussy. Do you like that uniform they have, honey?"

"It's okay."

"I think it's a bit… noisy. All those stripes. But it's good that they at least have something," she sighed. "Not like some of the other schools, letting kids just wear whatever they want. Honestly, some parts of youth culture today are just a bit too over-the-top for civilized society."

Nathaniel didn't say anything. He knew she was just trying to keep herself talking, to fill up these last few moments she had with him without really paying attention to what she was saying, but he didn't mind. He let her straighten his tie, pat the nonexistent dust and lint off his suit, but when she went to brush his hair with her fingers, he had to stop her.

"Your hair is just like your father's," she smiled. "He doesn't like me touching it either. I've always wondered why it's so white, haven't you? It must be something genetic, with the pigment, don't you think?"

Nathaniel didn't say anything.

His mother stood and glanced around the platform again, then looked at Hass. He was carrying Nathaniel's briefcase, as well as the large cage holding Ferrous, and was busying himself doing his usual surveillance of the crowd.

"And you will write me, won't you?" She asked, looking up at him from Ferrous.

"I will."

Seeing her, standing there, so out of place from everyone around her and all skinny and tight like she was curled up into herself, made Nathaniel realize just how much of a person she was, able to get just as afraid and lonely as anyone else. Nathaniel hesitated, feeling an urge he'd been brought up not to act on publicly, but decided to ignore it and follow through for once. He walked up to her, and gave her a hug around the waist.

"Oh," his mother said, surprised.

She squatted down again and gave him a stiff hug, like she didn't know how to do it properly, then they broke apart a second later.

"You'll be home for Christmas, of course, and for the spring holiday," she said.

"I will. And there's that village. Hogsmeade."

"Oh yes, you told me about that, didn't you? And this train, that's where it stops, and then they have inns there, where people can stay? Perhaps I'll try to get your father to have us spend a weekend up there, and you can give us a tour of your school. We'll have to see if there's anything of quality."

Nathaniel didn't think there'd be anything up to respectable standards, but didn't say it. He knew she like the idea of coming, and didn't want to put her down.

"And you will try to make friends, won't you? You know how important that is to your father."

"Yes, Mum."

"And they're not going to know you, remember, or who your family is. All these people your father's been having over, only one or two of them ever even heard of him. Can you imagine? I can't believe there are so many people not paying attention to the goings-ons of the world. But, I suppose, they have their own things happening, don't they?"

She looked around the crowd again and shook her head, and just then, the train's whistle blew.

"That's ten minutes," Hass said, voice deep.

"Oh, yes, well, I suppose we'd better find you a compartment," said his mother. "That man, he said these were the first-year cabins? Let's find a place for you to sit."

Nathaniel nodded, then took his mother's hand and made his way onto the train with her. The hallways were tight and bustling with kids, and twice all three of them had to flatten themselves against the wall to let the groups thud past. Hass had the most trouble, being nearly twice as large as a normal man, and also having to hoist Nathaniel's luggage and Ferrous's cage in the air so they were out of the way of passengers.

"Honestly…" his mother muttered, as a screaming group of kids Nathaniel's age ran past.

Eventually, after checking seven or so compartments, they found an empty one with plenty of room for Nathaniel's things. Hass took up nearly all the space by himself, but Nathaniel and his mother were skinny enough to fit comfortably in what was left.

"Well," she said, "you have a good year, now, won't you? And make sure you don't do anything dangerous - I know Robert said the staff knew what they were doing, but still, just try to stay away from anything that looks suspicious, or might do something awful to you. You had your, erm, training, didn't you? With Mr. Graves? You should know what to look for?"

Nathaniel could see her nerves starting to get going again.

"I'll be fine, Mum," he said, and held her hand reassuringly.

"Nathaniel's training practices were quite impressive," said Hass, giving the rare word of comfort.

"Yes, of course," she said, pushing her worry down inside her. "You'll be fine. You're a smart boy, and you've read everything you could."

Nathaniel smiled, and his mother laughed, trying to make it about their old joke of her thinking he read too much.

The whistle blew again.

"That's five minutes," said Hass, who stowed Nathaniel's luggage up on a rack and secured Ferrous's cage next to it.

"Yes, okay. Well I suppose we'd better let you get on with it," Nathaniel's mother said. "You have a good year, now, won't you? You'll learn a lot, and make some good friends?"

The way she said it, he could tell she was worried about him, and not simply thinking about his father and what he wanted. There still wasn't anything else he could say to her, though - she'd just have to calm down, and wait for herself come to terms with everything, and trust that he'd take care of himself.

"I will, Mum," he said. "I'll be safe, and I'll make friends."

She hugged him, and he hugged her back. He knew there was more she wanted to say, but she kept silent. Instead, she placed a hand on his head and smoothed his hair, and he let her do it.

"I love you, sweety," she said.

"Love you too, Mum."

And then they broke apart, and the three of them were standing there in the compartment for a moment, before Hass shifted and Nathaniel's mother gave him a last touch on the shoulder before walking awkwardly back into the hallway.

"Have a good year, Mr. Zoldik," Hass said, then went after her, bending his head to make it through the compartment door.

And then it was just Nathaniel, and a pair of benches facing each other, in an empty compartment with children running back and forth on the other side of the doorway. Nathaniel thought about his books up in his suitcase, then looked at Ferrous, who had grumpily turned to face the wall and hidden his head under his wing.

 _This is the beginning,_ Nathaniel thought, trying to recapture his mood from earlier. _A whole year to myself, with who knows what in store. Anything could happen._

A crinkling noise came from Nathaniel's breast pocket, and the paper man stuck out its head.


	11. Rachael (Part 2)

"Compartment O," Douglas said again, as the three of them weaved their way through the aisleway.

The crowd inside the train was getting thinner by the minute, but a few seventh-years were still travelling up and down trying to find a last-minute place to sit or figure out what compartments their friends were in. Ray was used to Douglas's size, but only now that she was constantly in danger of being bowled over did she realize how truly massive older students were.

"Hey, Doug," called Rachael, stopping outside one of the compartments, "I'm going to pop in here real quick, say hello to Kate."

"Why not invite her over?"

"She's already got a spot with Susan and Hannah. I'll just be a minute!"

"Alright!" Douglas said, and gave a two-fingered salute.

He set off again, and Ray heaved her trunk after him, and a minute later he pulled open the door to a compartment and gave an enthusiastic greeting to the people inside.

"Oh-ho, and who's this?" A sandy-haired seventh-year said jovially. "This the little sister you've been telling us about, eh Douglas? Hey there, my name's Samson!"

"Hey! I'm Ray!"

"Haven't gotten her Sorted yet, then?" He asked Douglas.

"And spoil all the fun?"

"Got any idea where you want to be, Ray?" Samson asked, as she and Douglas entered the compartment.

Inside was another boy, who was dressed in a school uniform with green and silver trimming, had a large, pointy nose, and dark eyes that looked at her disinterestedly.

"Think you'll make it into Slytherin?" Samson asked.

"She won't," Douglas said adamantly. "She's going to tell the Hat _not Slytherin_ , won't you, Ray?"

"Oh, come on," Samson said. "There's nothing wrong with old Slytherin! Sure the common room can get a bit gloomy at times, but you know who your friends are in Slytherin!"

"Do you?"

Samson laughed. "Okay, well at least you know who your enemies are," he said, and Douglas chuckled at that.

" _Most_ of the time," he corrected.

"You really don't want her in?"

"No."

There was a pause, where Samson didn't want to push for more information, but was still curious.

"Remember what I told you about my mum, Samson?"

"Oh," he said, then looked at Ray again, but differently. "Right. Well, er, could be that nobody would know… you've already got her into her school uniform, I see…"

"No, and that's that. What's up with you, Nort?" Douglas asked, changing the subject.

"Nort's had a hell of a night!" Samson said, bouncing back.

"Oh really?"

Nort, the gloomy boy, gave a sigh.

"Had a breach on the South End."

Douglas gasped. "No!"

"Yeah, had to wipe three Muggles and restructure some of the wards."

"Ministry boys," Samson said, grinning and taking a seat across from Nort. "You been to Autitha Way, Ray? You thinking about getting a job at the Ministry?"

"Er, yeah, and, no, I'm not sure…"

"She staying with us, Douglas?" Nort cut in. Samson looked at him.

"Er, right..." Douglas said. "Ray, you know where the first-year carriages are, right? This is a great opportunity for you to go and meet some people in your class."

"Oh... uh, sure." Ray didn't mind going to meet people, but didn't think she was going to be booted from the compartment. "They're down in the sixes, right?"

"Right, clear on the opposite end of the train. You know, I don't think I've ever gone the whole length of it myself," he said, stowing his trunk on the rack next to Nort's.

"What about third year?" Samson said, suddenly smiling. "Remember, the time when we -"

But just then, the train's whistle blew, drowning out all sound in the compartment, and then the floor lurched. They were on their way.

"Well... i guess I'll get going, then," Ray said, looking around at the three of them.

Douglas sat down on the edge of the bench next to Nort, hands on his knees, and looked uncomfortably at her. Part of her wanted to smirk at his awkwardness for booting her, but she didn't feel much in the mood for it for the same reason.

"Well, you know where to find me if you want anything off the trolley," Douglas offered.

Ray raised an eyebrow - that went strongly against the family rule of not buying anything at a place that you hadn't come there for.

"I know, i know, but everything in moderation, right?" He said, noticing her look. " _Including_ moderation! Besides, how many times do you get to ride the Hogwarts Express for the first time?"

"Wouldn't it being the first time make it so you didn't _need_ special treats?"

Douglas smiled. "Very true!"

Ray sighed. "Well, see you."

"Wait, Ray - remember what i said about not letting on you're from a Muggle family, right?"

She saw Samson and Nort look at her, and Douglas's eyes flickered to the side as though he could feel their gaze.

"Yeah, i know," she said.

"Okay. Well, I'm here if you need me."

"Wait, Doug, you tell her any hexes?" Samson asked.

"No, i did _not,_ and you won't be telling her any either. She'll not be getting in trouble before she's even put in a house."

"Ah, but what if someone comes at her? Self-defense, then, isn't it?"

"Knowing hexes and jinxes is asking for trouble. Besides, I'd wager Ray knows how to look after herself," he said, shooting her a grin. "And, i hear she gets in trouble plenty enough as is!"

Ray rolled her eyes, then set off down the hallway without responding (although she did smile a bit at Douglas's jibe).

The hallway was long and narrow, and every time she crossed one of the connecting planks between two carriages she had to hoist her trunk to the side awkwardly so she wouldn't catch her feet. She walked past a bunch of compartments, watching the inhabitants inside move about and talk with each other, and watched the letters above the doorways descend further down the alphabet. However, she wasn't even all the way through the "ones" before someone called out her name:

"Ray! Is that you?"

It was Rachael, who was hurrying along with a rather brawny-looking boy that might've been in Ray's own year. Unlike Rachael's bronze and blue uniform, the boy was wearing one with the same green and silver highlights as Nort.

"Hello!" Ray called.

Rachael came up and seized Ray's trunk from her in a way very similar to how her father had earlier.

"You going to the first-year carriages as well?" Rachael asked. "I'm taking Charles Goyle here to get his wand back -"

"Goyle," grunted the boy, by way of introduction. Ray nodded to him.

"- Apparently, some boy got into a fight with him and took it!"

"Filthy Muggle boy is who it was," said Goyle.

"Now now, Goyle, that's no way to be talking," Rachael said, absent-mindedly. "Although it is rather inexcusable… he'll get straightened out in Wizardry 101, though, I'm sure."

"Wizardry 101?" Ray asked.

" _An Introduction to Magical Society,_ " Rachael quoted. "It's a preliminary course for children from strong Muggle backgrounds, who'll probably want to take it. You can opt out of it, though, if you've got someone to sign for you."

"Nobody would _want_ to take that class," Goyle grumbled. "Who'd _want_ to tell the world you're a stinkin' Madblood?"

Rachael plodded to a stop. "Goyle! That is _very_ inappropriate language! You're not to be saying that in school, and shouldn't be saying it anywhere else for that matter!"

"Sor'y," he grunted.

Rachael sighed and they set off again. "You're just lucky Slytherin doesn't have any points to lose just yet. That'll cost you five if anyone catches you saying it during the school year."

"Got it."

"My older brother's in Slytherin," offered Ray.

"'Oo's he?

"Douglas."

Goyle frowned.

"Douglas Zuwaldt?" she tried.

His face brightened. "Oh, yeah, i heard my brother talking about him. Sixth year, ain't he?"

"Seventh, now."

"Oh, right. My brother's a fifth."

"You're Thaddeus's younger brother?" Rachael asked.

"That's right."

"I know him, he's a good kid."

"Bleeding nerd if you ask me."

"Goyle! If you keep that language up Slytherin isn't going to have a chance at the cup!"

"Well, i gotta get it out before the year starts, haven't i?"

Rachael paused for a minute, then let out half a laugh. "Make sure that you do. Anyways, where's the compartment?"

"That'n, there. G6."

"Right. Well, here's your trunk, Ray."

"Thanks," she said, receiving it.

"Okay, I'm going to sort this out… see you around, then!"

She went into the compartment.

"Bye! See you, Goyle," said Ray.

Goyle held out a hand. "Call me Chuck."

"Okay, Chuck," she said, and shook it.

"See you in Slytherin, if you get in," he said, then went into the compartment after Rachael, and Ray left them to it, smiling to herself. Making friends was going to be easy.

Taking stock of her surroundings, she spotted a compartment at random. Not even choosing to knock, she went up to it and pulled open the door. Inside were two boys and two girls. One of the boys was wearing a uniform colored in scarlet and gold.

"Hi, I'm Ray!" she said. "Mind if i sit with you?"

* * *

Nathaniel had only stood there for a minute before two girls looked in.

"Is it just you here?" one asked.

"Yes."

"Mind if we join? Everywhere else is getting full."

"Please," he said, and gestured at the bench opposite him.

The girls came in, hauling a pair of trunks, and stowed them up in the luggage racks.

"Are you a Muggle?" The second one asked - she had wavy, ginger-blonde hair, and was looking at him rather interestedly. The other girl had straight, black hair and sharp features, and both of them were already in their school uniforms.

"Or, Muggle-born, rather?" The girl corrected.

"Yes, I think so. How could you tell?"

"Your clothing. It's very nice, just not particularly wizard-y. I've got an Aunt who's a Squib - she lives in Muggle London - so I've got an idea what to look out for."

"I see. Does it matter, being Muggle-born?"

"Oh, no, not really, not in terms of magic at any rate. You might have a bit to catch up on, though, do you know anything about the wizarding world?"

"A bit. I've read some things."

The first girl cleared her throat. "Er, all the same, you might want to change out of your Muggle clothes. You _do_ have a school uniform, don't you?"

"I do. Am I to change immediately?"

"It's not a rule," said the ginger-haired, "but it is recommended. If people find out you're from a Muggle family, you might get teased about it."

"...I see."

"Yes, it's not a very nice thing," said the first girl, "but it happens. You can change in here, if you like, we won't watch."

"Okay. I'll do that, I suppose."

"I'm Abigail Crosswater, by the way! But call me Abby," said the ginger-haired.

"And I'm Bell," said the other.

"Nice to meet you, Abby, Bell," he said. "My name is Nathaniel."

Bell giggled.

"You're rather proper, aren't you, Nathaniel?" asked Abigail.

He gave one of his father's quizzical smiles. "I suppose so."

Bell giggled again.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," she said.

"Likewise."

The girls took to their bench, where Bell resumed what had apparently been an in-progress account of her family vacation over the summer. Nathaniel took his briefcase down from the rack and opened it, then began unpacking his things to extract one of his school uniforms.

He laid all his clothing out on the seat in neat stacks, then unbuttoned his jacket and undershirt, folded them, and placed them alongside the rest. It would've been better if he'd had a hanger, but he could always get one of the service staff to iron out any wrinkles. He then went to remove his slacks, and just as he was stepping out of them, the door to the compartment slid open.

"Hey hey, look what we got here, Vinn!" Came a voice. Immediately, Nathaniel was reminded of one of the few delinquent, dim-witted children that always somehow got enrolled in his schools.

"Looks like we found ourselves a Muggle, eh?" said the voice.

"Looks like it, Chuck."

"Oh no," he heard Abigail whisper.

These must be the people that tease Muggle children. Turning toward the doorway, Nathaniel took in the newcomers: one was brawny (presumably Chuck), wearing a school uniform colored in green and silver. The other boy, Vinn, was taller, but considerably less bulky, and wore the same gray-and-white uniform the girls were wearing.

Not even thinking to ask, the bulky boy strode into their compartment and looked over Nathaniel's things.

"What's this, then, Muggle clothing? Not used to proper robes, so you're goin' around in your nickers? Don't know how they do it in Muggle-land, but here that's considered indecent."

The boy reached for Nathaniel's suit, but Nathaniel placed a hand out to stop him. Affronted, the boy opened his mouth to say something, but Abigail suddenly spoke up.

"Oh, leave him alone, he's changing!"

"And who are you then?" He said, whirling on her. "You pureblood?"

Bell sniffed indignantly. "Does it matter?"

"Sure does. Gotta know how much rifraff we got coming in, don't we?"

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by 'rifraff'?" he asked.

The boy looked back at him, an expression of detest on his face. As if by instinct, Nathaniel took stock of him, estimating the boy outweighed him by about twenty pounds, and was maybe an inch taller.

"You watch how you address me, Muggle. But sure, I'll tell you. What I mean is, you lot -" he jabbed Nathaniel's shoulder with a finger - "coming in here, not knowing nothing about magic or how to act properly. You lot -"

He went to jab Nathaniel's shoulder again, but Nathaniel stopped him.

 _Was he serious?_

The boy jerked his fingers from Nathaniel's grasp, furious. "What the hell you think you're doing, grabbing onto me with your dirty fingers?"

"I don't appreciate you touching myself, or my things. Your name was Chuck, was it?"

"Goyle, but don't you be dirtying it up with your tongue. And I'll touch whatever I like, got it?"

He went to grab Nathaniel's suit again, but Nathaniel jabbed a nerve-center on the underside of his arm. It went limp.

"Oi, what the -? What'd you do?!"

Goyle went to shove Nathaniel with his other hand, but he was embarrassingly predictable. Nathaniel grabbed onto him and used his momentum to throw him into the back compartment wall, where he smashed his head, lost his footing, and stumbled. Letting out a string of foul language, he went to slug Nathaniel in the stomach, but he side-stepped him easily. It was obvious that Goyle had had very little training in combat, if any at all. With a few choice holds, Nathaniel took charge of Goyle's arm and the back of his neck and steered him out into the hallway, where he threw him.

"I told you not to touch me," he said, voice passive. "Your arm will be fine in a minute. Please leave us alone."

He went to slide the compartment door shut, but Goyle whipped out his wand and shouted a spell that sent jagged purple lines up Nathaniel's arm. Nathaniel's muscles started spasming and his skin stung like it was covered in wasps - but fortunately, it was no worse than anything Mr. Graves had done.

Stopping himself from muttering anything crude, Nathaniel knocked Goyle's wand out of his hand, caught it, and cast _finite incantatem_ on himself. The stinging hex evaporated, but his actions sent Goyle into a full-on primitive rage.

Yelling something about "dirty Muggles" and "taking his wand", Goyle grappled madly at him, forcing him backward into the compartment and knocking him onto the girls' bench, both of whom shrieked and flattened themselves into a back corner. Goyle then went to tackle him, but as he did so Nathaniel spotted an opening in his mid-section. Swinging up a leg, he sunk his foot up into his diaphragm. Goyle was still for a moment, then sunk to his knees, wheezing.

Collecting himself, Nathaniel stood and shoved Goyle back out into the hallway with his knee.

"Don't attack me again," he said. "Next time you have a problem with me, tell me using words instead of coming after me immediately."

"I'll… tell… the prefects…" Goyle managed, climbing to his feet.

"That's a fine idea," he said. "You go get them, and I'll wait here."

It was true, too - having someone of authority here would definitely help keep the boy under control, and straighten out any miscommunication that had occurred.

Goyle stood, eyed his wand in Nathaniel's hand - Nathaniel immediately levelled it at him, thinking of performing a dizzying-jinx should he try anything - but fortunately, the boy stayed where he was.

"We'll see about you," he said, then turned and went off down the hallway. His friend, Vinn, had disappeared.

Nathaniel looked around the hallway: a number of compartments were open, with people's heads sticking out to see what was going on.

"Sorry about the noise," he called out, addressing everyone. "There was a miscommunication. A prefect is being summoned, and everything will be straightened out momentarily."

A lot of muttering followed this. One boy shouted out above the rest: "What happened?"

Abigail was suddenly behind him.

"That Slytherin boy was bullying him for being Muggle-born! Got a bit more than he was expecting, didn't he?" she said.

Unfortunately, the corridor broke out into an absolute uproar.

"What do you mean by calling him Slytherin?" A girl shouted angrily.

"I think you know what she means!" Someone else yelled.

"Please!" Nathaniel said, holding his arms above his head. As he was still drawing a lot of attention (being nearly naked and brandishing a wand), the rabble successfully quieted down.

"There was a miscommunication, he came after me, and I defended myself. That is all. A prefect is currently being summoned. There's really nothing else to it."

"Why 'you naked, then?" Somebody asked, but Nathaniel was already going around Abigail and back in the compartment.

"Please shut the door."

She hesitated, probably wanting to remain out in the hallway telling everybody what had happened, but thankfully did as he asked. The compartment returned to silence. Nathaniel had done what he could to neutralize the situation, and remaining out in the hallway any longer would just keep fuelling the crowd's energy.

She was grinning at him. Bell was looking at him too, but wearing a shocked expression on her face.

Sighing, he tossed Goyle's wand on his bench and resumed arranging his school uniform.

"Sorry about the commotion," he said. "I didn't mean for it to turn into a fight."

"That was ruddy brilliant!" Abigail said. "And it's not your fault," she said indignantly - "that Slytherin, going around calling people wretched things. It's completely barbaric!"

"Why do you call him 'Slytherin'?"

"Didn't you see his colors? He's one of them!"

Nathaniel looked at her. "One of them?"

"Yeah, all Slytherins are like that!"

"Weren't you just defending Muggle-borns, saying that our backgrounds didn't matter?"

"...Uh, yeah, duh! Of course it doesn't!"

"But you're identifying him by a group-term, lumping him in with everyone else that's a Slytherin, the same way he was lumping me in with all Muggles?"

"I, er… well, it's different! You don't understand, Slytherins are wretched, saying those awful things and being unbearable all the time!"

"It's true," Bell agreed.

"All of them? Every single person in Slytherin?"

They paused.

"Well, you know what I mean!" Abigail insisted. "Besides, what are you defending _him_ for? He just attacked you!"

"That might be true, but it was his _thinking_ about me as a Muggle-born that pushed him to do it. So, it wasn't really him, it was how he was raised. And if we start attacking Slytherins because 'all Slytherins are evil', then we're really no better, because we're attacking them without thinking of who _they_ are or where they've come from as individuals, same as he did to me. I don't know how things have played out in magical history, but from what I've learned of the rest of the world, that kind of thinking doesn't lead anywhere good. For anyone."

Abigail opened her mouth, as if about to say something, but no words came out. Then, suddenly, there was a lurch, and the train began to move.

"Anyways," he said, "I suppose taking someone's wand isn't proper, judging by his reaction?"

"Oh, yes, that's definitely not something you should've done."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to explain that to the prefect when they get here."

They were quiet for a moment.

"You're very good at... er, fighting," Bell said. "I don't think I've ever seen someone grab a wand like that before!"

He smiled at her, then went to pull on his school slacks.

"Well, it's a lot easier than a knife, and I've had loads of practice with those."

"What about guns? Are guns really as bad as they say? Can you really kill someone just by twitching your finger, not even having to say or think anything?"

He blinked. Did she really not know about guns?

"Well… yes. It takes a bit of practice in most situations, but for the most part, if you know what you're doing, yes. Guns are the most efficient killing tools in the world, with the exception of maybe chemicals, or pathogens, or explosives."

Both of them were staring at him. Nathaniel wondered just how much they'd heard of the Muggle world.

"Do they… do Muggles... really do all those horrible kinds of things to each other?"

They had heard _some_ things, then.

"Well, no, not all the time. In fact, that kind of stuff usually only happens when there's war, and _then_ it's only where the fighting's going on. Most of the time, Muggles are just… ordinary people. Working, watching the market, talking on the phone. Ordinary stuff."

The conversation fell quiet as Nathaniel finished dressing, then Abigail started talking about what she knew of Muggle life from her Aunt, asking Nathaniel to confirm some of the details as she went along. He busied himself repacking and stowing his luggage up next to Ferrous, who was glaring down at him. Nathaniel felt a twinge of regret for having disturbed him.

"That's a very handsome owl," Bell said, interrupting Abigail's monologue.

"Thanks," he said, then sat down on the bench. From the way the girls were behaving toward him - and the change in their posture, there was a stiffness there that hadn't been before - Nathaniel could tell he'd put them on the alert. But he couldn't be bothered trying to make them feel comfortable. He didn't pose any danger to them, and they'd register that in time. He just wanted quiet.

Next to him on the bench, Goyle's wand lay there like a weapon with its safety off.


	12. Potter

Ray looked around at the inhabitants of the compartment. Of the two boys, one was narrowly built with shaggy black hair, while the other was taller, porkier, and the only one there wearing the school uniform. The two girls, sitting on the bench across from them, were just as different from each other: one had long, wavy brown hair, and the other, who was a bit smaller, had straight, pale blonde.

"Um," said the shaggy-haired boy, in a tone that wasn't particularly welcoming.

"Of course you can!" Cut in the brown-haired girl. "Scootch this way, Olivia, there's plenty of room."

Ray looked at the shaggy-haired boy, who went back to his writer, then stepped into the compartment.

"Thanks a bunch," she said.

"Sure thing! The train gets more full every year, my brother says."

"Yeah, they actually just added another carriage two years ago," said the porky boy - "just about finished off the sixes section! All that's missing now are 'v' through 'z'!"

"What's your family name, by the way?" Asked the brown-haired girl. "I don't think I've seen you around before. My name's Weasley, Ellen Weasley, and this is Olivia."

The girl have a shy smile and nod.

"Zuwaldt," Ray said. "Good to meet you!"

"I'm Longbottom," said the porky boy.

" _Longbottom?_ " Ray asked, before she could help herself - thankfully, she was able to keep from laughing.

"That's right," he said, cheeks going a little red.

Ray turned to the shaggy-haired boy, who looked up at her, as if waiting for something.

"Er, and what's your name?" she asked.

The boy blinked. "Potter. Devin Potter."

"Well, good to meet you. Good to meet you, everybody," Ray said, stowing her luggage and backpack up on the rack and sitting down next to Olivia.

"Ray," said Ellen Weasley, leaning forward to see her, "are you from around here? Are you the first in your family to go to Hogwarts?"

Ray's pulse thumped. Was it that obvious she was from a Muggle family?

"No," she said quickly, "my father went here, and my brother's in his seventh year. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason. What house is your brother in?"

"Slytherin!"

There was a pause in the room.

"Er, and you said you had a brother here as well?" Ray asked.

"Yes, he's third year. I've also got a sister in her fifth, both Gryffindor."

"Do you know what house you'll be in?"

"Gryffindor. I think we're all bound for Gryffindor. Although, I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw… what about you?"

"I don't know. I think I'd be happy anywhere, as long as I make some friends. My brother doesn't want me in Slytherin, though."

The Potter boy let out a laugh.

"How come he doesn't want you in Slytherin, if it's his own house?" Asked Longbottom.

"He thinks they'll be hard on me. I don't mind, though, _I_ can stick up for myself!"

"Well, I'd never want to be in Slytherin," said Potter. "Awful house. Can you imagine being put in?" He turned to Longbottom. "I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Longbottom grinned compliantly.

"Oh, come on, as if you'd ever _not_ go to Hogwarts!" Ellen rebuked.

Potter shrugged. "I've heard good things about Ilvermory. I'm not worried, though, I doubt any of us will miss Gryffindor - especially if some of us have already gotten Sorted!" He said, looking meaningfully at Longbottom.

Ray had wanted to ask why they hated Slytherin so much, but that made another question pop into her mind.

"What's the deal with getting Sorted, anyway?" She asked. "Why are some people already in houses?"

"Well, there's so many people coming in, aren't there?" Ellen said. "There's about a hundred people for every class, I think, give or take ten or twenty. If each person took a minute to get Sorted, it'd be almost two hours for everyone to get through, not to mention the other parts of the ceremony. Asking the whole school to sit through the entire thing would be crazy!"

"We have to get Sorted in front of the _whole school?_ "

"Yep."

"You scared?" Potter teased.

"No," she said, sticking out her chin. "I just don't know how it's supposed to go, is all."

"Didn't you say you've got wizarding family?"

Ray faltered.

"Yes, but i still haven't heard much! My brother works all the time, and we don't really hang out unless we're both at home."

"What about your dad?"

"He, er... isn't around often."

"Another Slytherin, eh?"

Ray's face grew hot.

"So what if he was?"

"Oh, nothing…" he said, smirking at Longbottom.

Ray's eyebrows narrowed and she opened her mouth to tell him to explain, when Ellen jumped back in:

"So _anyways_ , as i was _saying_ , you can get sorted beforehand if your parents arrange it. You sign up for an appointment two weeks before the school year, get put on a waitlist, and they send you an owl when it's your turn to have a go!"

Ray glowered at Potter for a moment before deciding to drop it.

"How come more people don't do it?" She asked.

"Well, they don't advertise it, for one, and your parents have to be in the know."

"Are Sorted too?"

"Just me," said Longbottom.

"Why not the rest of you?"

Ellen opened her mouth, but Potter spoke first.

"Tradition," he said. "It's not a proper Sorting if you don't do it in front of the whole school. That's what my dad says."

"But it's still the same procedure, right? You still have to put on the Hat?"

"That's right!" Longbottom said, indignant at Potter's remark.

"Well, it's still not _proper_ ," he insisted. "You've got to go through the whole thing and get the whole experience. Otherwise, how can you know if you're a true Gryffindor?"

"You don't need to be sorted in front of the whole school to be a true Gryffindor! There's plenty of ways to show your worth!"

"Yeah, like that time we thought we found an acromantula, and you went running back to the house?"

"It could've been! We might've been bitten!"

" _Or_ , like that time we were supposed to go out for midnight Quidditch, and you chickened out because you thought your mum would ground you?"

"Come on, you know I'm awful flying in the dark!"

"Or in general."

"Hey," said Ray, suddenly remembering, "is there a soccer team?"

"Soccer? That Muggle sport where you kick balls around with your feet?" Potter asked, eyebrow raised.

Ray gaped at him.

"There's loads more to it than that! It's the most popular sport in the world, how can you not know about it?"

"Most popular sport in the Muggle world, maybe. Are you telling me you'd rather play soccer than Quidditch?"

"Maybe! I don't even know how to play Quidditch."

"Don't know much of anything, do you?"

Affronted, Ray stood up.

"Just what are you trying to say?"

Potter stood too.

" _I'm_ not trying to say anything. You said your dad's never around and neither is your brother, so what does that make your mum? She a Muggle?"

"What if she is?" Ray said, voice raising.

"Nothing, it'd just explain a few things is all!"

"Oh yeah, like what?"

"Like how you don't know about the Sorting! Like how you're already dressed in your school-uniform, afraid of anyone seeing you in your Muggle clothes! Like how you don't know to be ashamed of having family in Slytherin!"

Ray stamped her foot.

"You quit having a go at me for being from a Muggle family! And I'd never be ashamed of my brother, AND besides, _he_ said that Slytherins are the ones who tease Muggle children, you sure you're not headed to that house instead?"

Potter shoved her.

"You take that back!"

That was a bit harder than Ray was used to getting shoved, but it didn't matter.

"I won't!" She said, shoving him away from her. "Besides, you started it!"

"No, _you_ started it," he said, shoving her again, "now take it back!"

"No!"

And then he grappled at her, and she at him; Ray punching him in the chest while he tried to pull her into a headlock by her hair. However, she was suddenly tugged backward, her arms pinned behind her by Longbottom.

"Let go of me! _Let go of me!_ " she shrieked, but Longbottom had already released her.

"I'm sorry, i'm sorry, I was just trying to stop the fight!"

Ray glared at Potter, huffing, and he stared right back, both of them red-faced and ready to jump back into it. However, after noticing Olivia looking at her, she decided she didn't want to be in the compartment any longer. She strode to the door (shoving Potter aside as he put his hands up again), yanked it open, stepped out into the hallway, then threw it closed behind her.

As she set off down the hallway, Potter stuck his head out and called after her:

" _And I wasn't making fun of you for being Muggle-born!_ I have _loads_ of friends who are Muggle-born, and they're _real_ Muggle-borns, not just half-blood fakers!"

Ray didn't turn around, but continued walking off, blood pounding in her ears.

What was that boy's _problem?_ He'd been completely rude since the first moment she stepped in, and she hadn't even done anything to him!

She was still reliving their scuffle in her mind when she realized she'd gone nearly three-quarters of the way through the train. Well, she thought, if she'd come this far, she might as well keep going until she got all the way to Douglas's compartment.

"Compartment O," she muttered to herself, and a few minutes later, found it.

Rachael was in the middle of telling a funny story when she slid the door open, but upon seeing her the smile fell from her face.

"What's wrong, Ray?"

She went in and, after disregarding an urge to sit on Douglas's lap (she was much too old for that kind of thing anyways), squeezed in next to him on the bench, arms crossed.

"Oh, I know that look," Douglas said. "Bump into some Slytherins, did you?"

" _No,_ " Ray scowled. "As a matter of fact, I did everything exactly as you said!"

"So, what happened?"

She let out a puff of breath.

"Got into a fight."

Douglas laughed. "Oh, Ray... Who was it?"

"Some boy named Devin Potter."

There was a moment's silence, then he burst out laughing.

"You got into a fight with _the_ _Potter_ _boy?_ "

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Ray said, jumping to her feet and stamping her foot. As she expected, Douglas roared even harder.

"No, no, I'm sorry," he gasped, "it's just that, of all people you could have gotten into a fight with, you had to pick the _one_ first-year that everyone knows about!"

Ray looked around - Samson and Nort were smiling weakly, while Rachael was looking at her with a concerned expression.

"What's so special about him?" she demanded.

"It's - it's not him," Douglas said, "more of his family. You remember the organization we went to, to get funds for the year?"

Ray's face drained of color. _The Potter Foundation._

"Well, _I_ wasn't the one who started it!"

"Are you alright, Ray?" Rachael asked.

"I'm fine, it wasn't a big deal. I've been in worse fights than that."

Samson and Nort both smiled, Samson saying, "Eh, Douglas, looks like you weren't joking about her!"

"Just what have you been saying about me?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, waving them off, "just what I said earlier, that you know how to look after yourself! Where's your stuff, anyway?"

She'd left it back in the compartment.

"Did you need some help straightening any things out?" Rachael asked.

"Captain Prefect to the rescue!" Hollered Samson.

"No, thanks, I've got it," said Ray, sighing and slumping back down on the bench. "I just wanted to go somewhere for a second."

"Hey," Douglas said, slapping her knee, "I've got an idea, come with me."

He stood and went from the compartment, and after flashing an uncertain wave of farewell to everyone, she ran after him.

Instead of going back to the first-year carriages, Douglas took her further up the train toward where they'd come in. At one point the compartments suddenly doubled in size, and inside these were loads of sixth and seventh-years making a big ruckus. One of compartments had a few adults in it, who Ray wondered might be professors, and finally, they came to a compartment that didn't have a door at all. Instead, there was only a small half-door, and inside all the walls were stuffed with cubbies and drawers and supplies. A man wearing a tall, striped hat sat in the midst of everything, sporting an amazingly curly mustache and sitting next to the confections-cart reading a magazine called _Warlock Thursday._

"Ah," said the man, "what can I do for you, sir and miss?"

"Morning, Tim!" said Douglas. "Or, afternoon, rather. I was hoping to get a handful of lemon bursts and a bag of Bertie's, if you don't mind!"

"Certainly, certainly!" Tim said, leaping to his feet. "Now was that one handful, or two?"

"Ah, let's just make it a scoop, then."

"Right-o!"

Tim opened a bin full of small, yellow candies on the cart and scooped a heap into a white paper bag, then plucked a small, burlap pouch from the cupboard inside.

"Keep the change," Douglas said, passing him a few silver coins and taking the candies.

"Thank you very much, sir!" Tim said, touching the brim of his hat.

Douglas and Ray went back to the compartment, where Ray remained standing, as she expected to be leaving soon.

"Guess what I've got, everyone!" Douglas said.

"Merlin save us," Nort said, rolling his eyes as Douglas opened up the white paper bag.

He passed it around, and everyone took one or two (Rachael doing so with a grimace on her face, and Nort only after a moment's pause and a sigh of concession). Ray watched all this rather interestedly; just what could be in those sweets that gave everyone such reactions?

Nort (probably wanting to get whatever it was over with) was the first to pop the candies in his mouth. The moment he chewed into them, his face screwed up and his whole body spasmed, sending him shoving himself backward up wall he'd been leaning against.

Everyone howled with laughter.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Nort gasped, blinking furiously. "Those things never get old!"

And then he grinned, and suddenly Ray thought he looked like a completely different person.

Samson went next, and he stood for theatrical effect: he popped two in his mouth, then closed his eyes and chewed into them, sending himself into uncontrollable jig that almost made him lose his footing and sent everyone laughing again. Then Rachael went, and she curled up into herself like she was being electrocuted, and suddenly, Ray realized that everything was being done in a counter-clockwise direction, and she was next.

After a look at Douglas, who was desperately trying to get a look at her while still doubled-over and on the verge of tears, she took one of the small, yellow candies and stuck it in her mouth. Not wanting to give him any more time to recover, she crunched through the candy shell.

It was the most sour thing she'd ever tasted: her entire face felt like a knot getting twisted tighter and tighter, and the moment the sourness reached its peak a lemony shock burst through her body in every direction, all the way through her arms and legs and out to her fingertips and toes, making her flail and stomp around.

Her face still felt all twisted as she looked at everyone laughing around the compartment, and by the time she had numbed and was able to laugh along with the rest of them Douglas had had his go. They then went around the circle one more time, and by the time Ray turned to leave she was in a much better mood.

"Hey," Douglas said, tossing her the small burlap candy sack, "don't open those until you've found a new compartment, alright?"

She was sure she was getting a trick played on her, but agreed, but privately decided to get whoever was in her new compartment to tell her what the candies were before having any.

The trip back down the hallway went by much too quickly: almost immediately after leaving Douglas's compartment, she started wondering at how she was possibly going to get her stuff back without having to talk to anyone. However, when she got there she saw her backpack slumped against the opposite wall from the compartment door and her trunk sticking halfway out.

Her eyebrows narrowed, suspecting they'd mistreated her things, but she'd been careful to stow anything fragile in her trunk so hopefully nothing was broken. She heaved her backpack off the floor and shouldered it, then tugged her trunk out of the compartment and set off back up the hallway.

Suddenly, however, Ellen called after her.

"Ray! Wait!"

She came running up, brown hair flying behind her.

"I wanted to say sorry for Devin," she said. "He gets a bit hot-headed sometimes!"

"He was more than hot-headed, he shoved me!"

"Er, yeah…"

"What's his deal? He didn't like me from the moment I came in the room!"

"I think he was just thrown off, usually people recognize him -"

"Oh, yeah, I heard he was famous -" she looked past Ellen and shouted at the still-open compartment door - "so he's just got a big head, then?"

"No, look," Ellen said, taking her by the shoulder (Potter had shouted something back, but Ray didn't catch it), "he really does feel bad, honestly, I mean, he knows it's not your fault coming from a Muggle family, we explained that to him -"

"Is there something _wrong_ with coming from a Muggle family?"

"No, it's just, he's not used to it, you know?" She said, flustered. "He knows he went a bit far, he does feel bad -"

"Then why isn't he out here, then? And he said he knew loads of Muggle-borns!"

"He's… look, I'm just trying not to have you guys be mad at each other! I really want everyone to be friends! I mean, the school year hasn't even started yet!"

"Well, maybe he's not somebody who's ready to be friends with anyone just yet."

"Look, he doesn't _need_ to be friends with you, can't you -"

"And I don't need to be friends with him! I'll go make friends somewhere else, maybe even Slytherins!"

Potter shouted something again.

"I can't hear you!" Ray yelled. " _Come out and talk to me if you've got something to say!_ "

Ellen was holding her back.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'll talk to him again, alright? I'm just, I'm just -"

Ellen's face was flushed, and Ray could tell she was trying all she could to resolve the situation.

"Sorry, Ellen, but he's got to be the one to apologize if he wants to be friends. Maybe he doesn't know how to act properly because he's _so famous_ or whatever, but that's no reason for him to get everything how he wants it all the time. If he's sorry, he needs to say so, and maybe i'll think about trying to be friends after that. But, right now, I definitely don't want to!"

Ellen bit her lip, looking at Ray desperately. Ray didn't care, though, Potter seemed like just another rich know-it-all on the playground, and Ray didn't want to be around anyone like him. She stuck her thumb under the strap of her backpack and took a step backward.

"Look, sorry, but that's how it is. Maybe things will change in the school year, maybe they won't. We'll have to see."

She paused, looking Ellen over.

"But, you know, I wouldn't mind being friends with you," she said.

Ellen opened her mouth, as though she hadn't been expecting that.

"Well, see you," she said, turning.

A moment passed, then Ellen shouted out again:

"I, uh - sure!"

Ray looked back, smiled, then continued on checking compartments.

She found a new one a few doors down, just as Ellen went back into her own. Inside were two boys playing with game-consoles wrapped in some sort of rubbery packaging, and a girl in a purple hijab writing in her writer. Ray sighed, then opened the door.

"Hi, I'm Ray," she said. "Mind if I join you?"

* * *

Alice dropped through the circle she'd drawn with her Permeability Chalk, slipping through the metal and landing solidly in the hallway below.

"Goodness, Miss! You startled me!" Cried the trolley-man.

"Sorry, Tim," Alice laughed, pushing her hair over her shoulder and pulling her broom up next to her. "I hope your day's going well?"

"It is, it is! I was just about to set off for another round, want anything off the cart?"

"Got any Mud Cups?"

"I do indeed!"

Tim pulled a small, sealed container full of the chocolatey mash out from the cart's cupboard and tossed it to her.

"- And it's on the house for professors, of course!"

"Thank you very much," she said, smiling. "And your mustache is brilliant, as always!"

He twirled one of the tips with a wink, then got to restocking his cart.

Alice positioned the Mud Cup precariously atop her side-bag, took out her wand, and tapped the metal roof. Above, her chalk circle turned to dust and blew away in the wind, rendering the metal solid once again.

After bidding farewell to Tim (who smiled and gave a friendly salute), she set off down the hallway, sighing contentedly. The weather had been absolutely wonderful for flying, if a bit windy, and she'd gotten all caught up with her prep work for her classes the previous day. She felt happy, relaxed, and was positively certain the year was off to a great start.

She got to the teacher's compartment, and inside were Professor Byron, Salma (the charms professor), and two of the caretaking staff.

"Hello, everyone!"

Salma looked up from her writer and smiled, the staff gave friendly "hey!"s and "hello!"s, and Professor Byron smiled with rosy cheeks and nodded at her from behind his newspaper.

"Welcome aboard, Alice," he said.


	13. Chase & Edgar

The Hogwarts Express continued north, puffs of steam escaping now and then as it wove its way around the hills and lakes of England.

"WE HAVE TO BE ON THIS TRAIN FOR EIGHT _HOURS?_ " a girl cried to the members of her newfound compartment.

"Uh, yeah," said one of the boys.

"Are you in a hurry?" the other laughed, nervously.

"No, I just didn't imagine it would take so long to get there!"

The other girl, wearing the purple hijab, sighed and looked up from her writer.

"It's a ten hour journey from London to Edinburgh _alone_ , for the Muggles, and we have to go all the way up to the highlands. Eight hours is _not_ a bad time."

Ray hesitated, not wanting to start any arguments.

"Er, I was just surprised... I've never travelled this far before."

The girl looked at her sharply. "Are you Muggle-born?"

Ray thought for a second, then stuck out her chin. "Yes, I am. Practically, anyways, I know almost nothing about magic. Is that a problem?"

"No, it's no problem," the girl said, taken aback. "Why would it be a problem?"

Ray faltered. "It's just... I've... er, I've heard some people give Muggle-borns a hard time, about not knowing anything about magic, is all."

The girl was silent for a moment, then held out a hand.

"I am Fawzia," she said.

Ray shook it. The girl, Fawzia, had a limp grip, so she had to adjust herself.

"Well, good to meet you," she said.

"And you."

One of the boys spoke up. "Did you say you were Muggle-born?"

"Yes I did."

Suddenly, the two of them started acting much more warmly toward her.

"Have you ever played _Roche Limit?_ " the first asked - he had short, brown hair, and a kind-looking face.

"Er… what?"

"It's a really old video game," he said, "we've each got a copy -" he hefted his rubber-packaged game system.

"No, sorry... are you two Muggle-born as well?"

The other boy, who had long, curly black hair and glasses, coughed out a single laugh as though the idea were preposterous.

"No, we're not," the first boy said, "I'm half-blood, and he's pure, not that it matters, of course."

" _Not that it matters!_ " The curly boy mocked.

Ray raised an eyebrow.

"Er… what are your guys's names?"

Suddenly, the curly boy stiffened, all humor gone from his posture.

"Chase," said the first boy, "and this is -"

"Edgar," said the other, not making eye contact.

"Good to meet you... I thought electronics didn't work around magic?"

"They don't," said Chase, "that's why we've got these -" he tapped the rubber packaging.

"Oh, that's neat."

"Ha, Chase," said Edgar, having gone back to his game and discovered something - "Chase, look."

Chase closed his eyes and sighed.

"Chase."

" _What?_ "

"Look," he repeated, and pointed to his game screen. Then, in a high-pitched voice, said: " _Ooo-wee, look what we got here!"_

"Oh my god," Chase laughed, rolling his eyes and looking out the window.

"What?"

"Oh, it's stupid," Chase said, then explained how the high-pitched voice belonged to a character in another game, and that it would have been ridiculous if _that_ character were in the same situation as the person in the current game. Ray smiled uncertainly when he finished, having understood the joke, but agreeing that it was, indeed, kind of stupid.

A few compartments down sat another group of kids, these much quieter. There were two girls and a boy, the girls sitting on one bench and the boy on the one across from them, and all of them were looking at books.

Occasionally, the black-haired girl shared something she'd discovered in her reading with the ginger-haired girl, and they would talk for a few minutes - sometimes it was about a mutual friend, sometimes it was about what classes they were taking and how they might study together if they didn't end up in the same house, sometimes it was about a new page she wanted to add to her writer or what kind of clubs they might be able to join during the school year. But they never got into a full-on conversation, and after a few minutes, they'd quiet again and return to their reading.

The boy never joined in. He was deep in the story he was reading. And when he was in a story - for a few, magical moments - it was as if he was in another world entirely.

* * *

At 3pm, the trolley man came around again serving sandwiches for lunch. At 5pm, after dropping several hints, Fawzia finally asked the boys to leave so she could change into her school uniform, and once she did she and Ray took their turn out in the hall. The boys ended up forgetting to tell them to come back in (having returned to their game systems), and so the two stood out in the hallway for a minute or so, slouched against the wall, the train humming and swaying along the track. Then Chase appeared at the doorway, laughing an apology.

Once everyone was settled again, Ray was back to trying to figure out what to do with herself. She'd already made another trip back up the hallway toward Douglas's compartment, but had stopped halfway after considering he and his friends might not want to be disturbed again. She'd spotted Liz on the way back, who was sitting in her compartment with three other fourth-year Ravenclaw girls, and stayed a moment to say hello and see her pet toad "Bumpy."

And now she was sitting down again, listening to the occasional joke pass between Chase and Edgar and looking out the window. She was feeling rather out of place: here she was, knowing next to nothing about the wizarding world, stuck in a compartment with people who'd been a part of it their whole lives. And her clothes didn't help matters - not only were they a school uniform, they were a wizard's uniform (or _witch's_ uniform, rather), and she… well, she wasn't a witch, not yet anyways. She was super-conscious of them - every time she shifted around she felt the fabric of the skirt on her legs; the fat, gray-and-white tie was weighty on her chest; her shiny black shoes were rigid and uncomfortable on her feet (even though they were bought second-hand), and all the while she couldn't help but think about her jeans and Manchester United shirt folded away in her backpack.

How different was everything going to be, she wondered? She'd already been spotted as a Muggle-born several times, and if she didn't figure out how to blend in quickly, it was going to be hard to fit in with the rest of her class.

Near 7pm (Chase was wearing an old, analog watch that Ray snuck a look at every once in a while), the sky turned a bright shade of orange and the occasional farmhouse or cottage whizzing by the window grew more frequent. Soon enough, the train started to slow, and Ray's heart kicked up - they were almost there.

A few minutes later, a man's voice echoed through the train:

"Gooood evening boys and girls, we will be arriving at the Hogsmeade Station in _five_ minutes time, please leave your luggage in your compartments and it will be taken to the school separately. When we come to a stop, please remember to keep yourselves orderly when exiting the train, and watch your step as you depart the platform! Thank you for riding the _Hogwarts Express._ "

"Do you guys know what houses you'll be in?" Ray burst, speaking out to help calm herself.

"I don't know," Chase said, standing on his bench to store his things away alongside Edgar. "You know?" he asked him, as they plopped back in their seats.

"I don't care," Edgar said coolly, "I'll just go in whatever one you do."

"What if the hat calls you for a different house?"

Edgar shrugged.

Ray turned to Fawzia -

"Ravenclaw," Fawzia said, tying her writer shut and smiling as if it were embarrassing. "But i could do Slytherin as well."

"Yeah, Slytherin doesn't sound too bad," Ray agreed thoughtfully.

Out the window, the train finally rolled into the village, then all too quickly eased into its station. Everyone stood, swaying as they came to a stop, and a noisy clamor broke out in the hall as students headed toward the exit.

"Are we - will we need anything?" Ray asked, swallowing.

Fawzia shook her head. "I don't think so."

Chase and Edgar were already at the door, not wasting any time in shouldering their way into the crowd. Ray smoothed her clothes again and went after them, followed by Fawzia, and soon enough she was being bumped and jostled along with everyone else on the way out toward the exit. As soon as they spilled out onto the platform, Chase and Edgar were lost in the crowd - Fawzia, too, had disappeared from behind her, but hopefully they would all find each other again once they got to the school.

It was remarkably windy for a September evening. Lowering her head, Ray followed everyone off the platform toward a man's voice, which boomed over the station:

"Firs' years! Firs' years, over here! Watch yer step, now!"

Ray trapped her hair back and squinted through the wind, then saw the most enormous person she had ever seen: he stood nearly ten feet tall, might have weighed as much as six grown men, and had a heap of wild, scraggly hair tossing in the air around his face. Undoubtedly, he could have picked Ray up single-handedly and tossed her around like a soccer ball, yet kids seemed to be swarming around him in excitement.

It was Potter and his gang. They and a few others had all gathered around his waist, shouting out "hello"s and tugging on his massive fur coat for attention.

"Ah, there yeh are, you lot!" the giant shouted. "Have a nice summer, didja? Yer parents doin' alrigh'? Okay, now, okay… Firs' years!" he called again, turning back to the crowd, "Firs' years, follow me! There's a lotta yeh, so ev'rybody make sure ev'ryone knows where ter go... righ', now, this way!"

The man set off, and they followed him away from the village and down a dirt road to the forest.

Where were they going? Douglas had said Hogwarts was the highest point in all the land, yet for some reason they were headed downhill. Did they have to hike through the woods, or go through some sort of survival challenge before being allowed in the castle? Probably not, but surprisingly, the thought invigorated her: _she was off on an adventure!_ Here she was, surrounded by people that the majority of the world didn't even know _existed_ , being led toward a magical school by an enormous man! So what if it was getting hard to see, or her clothes were getting dusty and dirty and she didn't know anybody around her? At least she hadn't been sitting in a desk all day, listening to Mr. Garren talk about multiplication, or at some other boring school as equally square and gray and ordinary.

Suddenly, everyone came to a stop. Ray stood on her tip-toes to see over people's' heads, and found they'd reached a gravelly shoreline: a line of small, wooden boats was set before them on the rocks (Ray thought there must be at least thirty, and at the back of each was a small lantern swinging in its hook), and beyond these was a small, black bay, its water chopping in the wind. Two enormous mounds of land rose up on the far side, giving the entire area a bowl-like shape, and between them a larger body of water was visible.

"Righ', now, we need ter have four to a boat!" the man shouted. "Got tha'? Not five, not three, but four, alrigh'?"

Everyone spread out along the beach, and suddenly, Ray saw Chase and Edgar in the crowd. She made a beeline toward them, weaving her way through everyone until she was at their sides.

"Hey!"

"Oh, hey," Chase said, smiling awkwardly.

"Wotcher," said Edgar.

Spotting a boat, Ray motioned for them to follow her - if all three of them wanted to get in one together, they'd have to claim it fast before anyone else did. However, just as they got there a tall, dark-skinned boy arrived. He had a fade haircut, a big smile, and fortunately, appeared to be alone.

"Hey, that's four," the boy said.

Ray grinned. "Perfect!"

The lot of them clambered in. Chase and Edgar took the front bench while Ray and the boy sat in the back, all of them facing the bow. Fawzia was nowhere to be found, but Ray figured she'd probably found a seat somewhere else by now.

"I'm Zach, by the way!" said the boy, squinting at her, face half-lit by the lantern. "Zach Neelson!"

"I'm Ray! And that's Chase and Edgar!" she said, gesturing to them, but they were in conversation and didn't hear her.

"This is wild, isn't it?" Zach said. "Going across the lake at a time like this!"

Just then, the giant's voice boomed over the beach again:

"Ev'ryone in a boat? If yeh got extra seating, raise yer hands! Ought ter be plenty o' room!"

The last few kids scurried over the gray pebbles, jumping in wherever they could. Ray was certain some boats had more or less than four kids, but there'd probably be enough spots in any case.

"Alrigh', then... FORWARD!" he commanded, and with a lurch, every single boat ground itself off the shoreline and moved out into the water.

The whoops and hollers were short-lived, as the boats were rocking just a bit too much for comfort. Ray looked around trying to see everyone, but it was hard to make people out in the shadows cast by the lanterns - she was able to tell Potter and his gang, though, who were in the boat next to the giant's (the giant had a larger, darker boat all to himself), but she couldn't see much beyond that.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec!" the giant man called, as though a tour guide.

They entered the passage between the mounds. In unison, the boats rocked together into a triangle formation (tipped by the giant), and as they came out into the lake, the boats ahead of theirs sent up sounds of awe and amazement. A moment later the sight came into view: a tall cliff, silhouetted against the reddening sky, stood overlooking the opposite side of the lake, and all along its top Hogwarts Castle was spread like a giant blanket. Every tower, wall, and roof peak was black against the dusk, and lit-up windows speckled every surface.

"Wow!" Ray said, arm wrapped around her head to hold her hair back. Even from this distance, she could tell it was enormous.

"It's amazing!" she shouted - "that's all one building?"

"I never knew it was so large!" Zach said next to her.

The boats remained in triangle-formation, and Ray saw they were headed to a cave at the base of the cliff. About halfway there, though, once everyone had settled down again, a few shouts of alarm rose out of nearby boats.

"What's going on?" Ray asked.

Edgar glanced back at her - "There's something in the water."

"WHAT?"

She scrambled to her feet - now _this_ is was something she wanted to see! Just how magical _was_ this place?

Stretching over Zach (who leaned backward obligingly), she grasped the side of the boat and looked out.

"See anything?" Chase asked.

The dark waves bounced and peaked in the wind. She looked for a minute, but nothing broke the surface, nothing glowed or shimmered in the water's depths, and a moment later she gave up like the people in the other boats.

"Nah," she said.

However, right as she went to sit down, the boat lurched over a wave - her foot shot backward to steady herself, but hit the side - she lost her balance - and tipped backward over the edge of the boat.

Ray plunged into the icy water, immediately swallowing a mouthful and getting some up her nose. The lake was freezing - the cold stabbed into her from all sides like a thousand tiny needles, and it was too dark to see which way was up. She coughed and blew air out to clear her nasal passages, then grappled at the water, thrashing herself around to feel for the surface.

Fortunately, she touched something slimy, which she took for the bottom of a boat for a second before realizing it was a log, and hauled herself upward. She broke into the air, clothes heavy and cumbersome, and as she gasped for breath she saw the water around her was empty of boats.

It took her a moment to find them: they'd already gone thirty feet! They must have been moving a _lot_ faster than she'd realized! She didn't have a long time to think, though - right then, the log began curling in on itself.

Alarmed, Ray tried to distance herself from it, but it was already closing around her. It was wrapping around her body, tightening around her waist - _what was going on?!_

And that's when she realized - it wasn't a log at all. Blood drained from her face. It was a tentacle. She was in the clutches of a giant sea monster.

Horror-stricken, she froze for a moment before panic found its way out her throat. She screamed, pushing at the slimy flesh to shove herself free, but the monstrous arm had already wrapped too tight. She switched tactics and began slamming her fists into it, but the tentacle was too large and muscled for her to make any sort of impact.

A series of images flashed through her mind: her dogs, crunching down on chicken bones; the toads in her backyard, catching mayflies in their lips and swallowing them; a snake, strangling a kicking, spasming rat - animals eating animals, the terrible dance of nature and the food chain, and suddenly she was a part of it. Something had found her, something _much_ bigger than her, and it didn't matter if she was a person or not. She was food.

And she had no way to free herself. She dug her fingers in and scratched, but her nails weren't sharp enough and the skin was too slick and rubbery for her to hurt it. Her fists were pinpoints and her arms thin as sticks next to its bulk; incapable of bashing or bruising. Any second now it'd suck her under the surface, she knew it - it would drag her down into the suffocating depths and shove her into its maw, then she'd be punctured by its teeth and that'd be the end of it.

Desperate, she screamed out across the lake toward the boats, but she hardly got the first shriek out before being ejected from the water - the tentacle swung her up into the air like a ragdoll, then started tossing her around like a toy, sending her blood rushing around in her head. She hit it with everything she had, kicked her legs as hard as she could, screamed over and over again, tried and _tried_ to push herself free, but there was nothing to be done.

Then, out of nowhere, the tentacle suddenly slackened. She slipped out, but rather than dropping into the lake, she landed solidly on the side of a bench. She was in a boat!

"Bloody hell!" someone shouted. "You okay?!"

"WHAT'S IT DOING?" Ray cried, struggling to push herself upright. "IT'S ATTACKING US!"

"Hey, hey! It's fine! It's gone already, you're okay!"

Heaving breaths, Ray tried to maneuver herself, but her arms were exhausted. She craned her neck, looking to see what was going on, but sure enough, the tentacle was nowhere to be found.

"You alright?" the person asked again - it was Zach!

She was in _her_ boat! _What had just happened?_

"I'm... okay?" she gasped. "I'm okay!"

Chase and Edgar were staring her, wide-eyed.

A second later (or more, she seemed to have lost track of time), their boat lurched ashore, and she was being looked over by the giant man.

"Yeh alrigh'?" He asked, gently, kneeled down at her level (though his head was still a good three feet above her). With his mass of hair and fur coat, he almost entirely walled her off from everyone else.

"Yeh hurt at all? Feel anythin' broken or bruised?"

Her stomach and sides still hurt from where the tentacle had wrapped around her, but she new it wasn't anything serious.

 _Had she really made it away from that thing without a scratch?_ She had just been in the clutches of a monster, she could have just _died_ , been eaten _,_ and there was _nothing_ she could've done to stop it. And it'd all happened so quickly!

The giant was still talking.

"Wha's yer name, eh?"

She gulped. "...Ray. Ray Zuwaldt."

"Zuwaldt? ...Well, Ray, yeh made it ter shore, and yer in a righ' better state than some o' the others tha've fallen overboard."

Ray looked up at him. The man had a kind face, and there was a surprising warmth in his eyes - not the first thing you'd expect from someone that could eat a whole sheep for breakfast.

"I'm qui'e impressed - mind, you were ne'er in any danger, she wouldn' hurta fly, she wouldn', she's jus' there ter help."

"That monster - _she_ \- she put me back in the boat?"

He smiled.

"Tha's righ'. Yeh ever been out fer a day on the lake, fall o'er the side, and try ter get back in while it's still in the water?"

Ray nodded.

"Ruddy difficult, ain't it?"

She didn't know what to say.

"How are yeh? Alrigh'?" he asked again.

Ray patted herself down to double check, nodded, then took a breath and shivered. Without hesitation, the man shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her.

"Oh! Uh, no, please, I'm fine!"

"Like hell yer fine, you just wen' for a swim in the lake! An' as well as yeh might be handlin' it, yer still goin' ter catch a cold if yer not careful. Now, yeh feeling well enough to get up ter the castle?"

Everything was coming back into focus. She was here, in a cave, surrounded by kids her own age and a massive, friendly man. She'd just been scooped out of the water by a giant squid or something, which had only been trying to help (even if it did NOT seem like it at the time) - she was okay, everything was okay.

"Yeah... I'm... fine, actually, I'm fine," she said, still in disbelief. She _did_ need to get the man's coat off her, though. Although it might have been extremely warm and comfortable (if a bit smelly), it was weird to have special treatment from someone she hardly knew.

"Here, uh, have your coat back -"

"Now, hold on -"

"Really, it's much too big... I wouldn't be able, to, you know, walk around or anything!"

"Well, I was gonna offer ter carry yeh -"

At that, Ray made up her mind.

"I'm okay," she said, pulling off the coat and stuffing it into the man's arms. "Really, thanks." There was no _way_ she was going to be carried, she wasn't a baby after all. "Besides, I'll have everyone around me to keep me warm, won't I?"

The man smiled.

"Yer one tough kid, yeh know tha'?"

Ray wasn't sure what to say, so she just smiled and crossed her wet arms against the chilly air.

The giant stood, and addressed the rest of the first-years:

"Alrigh', now, up the stairs! We've still got ter get yeh up ter the castle, don' we?"

All at once, Ray was surrounded by kids asking what happened. Instead of responding immediately, she followed the giant to a stairwell carved into the back wall of the cave, shot Potter a look (who glanced away, which made her smirk), and began the climb. She recounted her story almost five times on the way up (twice to Chase, who relayed it to people behind him, and a few times to random kids that came running up to hear it first-hand before going back down to their friends), going into more detail with every retelling. By the time they got to the top of the stairs, almost every kid was talking about it.

They came out onto the grounds. A ways ahead of them across a stretch of grass was an enormous, oaken door leading into the castle, flaming torches bordering either side. A stone walkway led the way to the door, and as they walked, everyone around her caught their breaths from the climb. Ray was in rather good spirits, though, having warmed up and already experienced something crazy.

"Alrigh', best be quite now," the giant said as they pooled around the door (even though everyone was still huffing and puffing).

Then he raised his massive fist, and knocked three times.

* * *

The door opened to reveal a tall, slender man, silhouetted against the light inside. Once Ray's eyes adjusted, she saw him to have a pointy goatee, wild eyebrows, and a sharp, piercing gaze.

"The Firs'-Years, Professor D'narko," the giant said. Ray had the distinct impression they were about to be handed off.

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Professor D'narko, eyes wandering over them and pausing for a moment on Ray's soaked form. She tried not to shiver with the cold creeping back in.

"You will follow me closely in an orderly fashion," he said. "Be sure that you keep up, and mind any instructions you are given. You will find that I do not make allowances for any lollygaggers. Now, after you, Hagrid… and, follow."

Once the giant man - Hagrid, by the sounds of it - had gone through the doorway, he and Professor D'narko led them into an enormous, ornately-decorated hall lined with torches. The floor was broad, easily wide enough to fit Ray's entire house, and was set with flagstone. Above, the ceiling was so far up that its support beams were hidden in the darkness.

Ray and the other first years followed quietly, forming two lines. She was trying to listen in on what Professor D'narko and Hagrid were talking about (she could have sworn she heard her name mentioned), but her attention was pulled away by the person coming up alongside her.

It was Ellen. "How are you, Ray?" she asked, a bit apprehensively.

Behind her were Potter and Olivia, of whom only Olivia wasn't trying to pretend Ray wasn't the least bit interesting. She didn't see Longbottom anywhere, but that was his business.

"Fine. I'm good," she said, turning forward. "A bit wet, but glad to be inside where it's warm. Who's that?" she nodded.

"Professor Donarko? He's the deputy headmaster, second in line after the headmistress herself. I don't know much about him… he teaches the upperclassmen."

"Okay. And that's... Hagrid?"

Ellen's jaw dropped. "Don't tell me you don't know about Hagrid!"

"Er, not really, actually."

Behind her, Potter snorted. Ray whirled around.

"Have you got something to say?"

"Me? No, why do you ask?"

Ellen tugged Ray back by her shoulder.

"Hagrid's the Care of Magical Creatures instructor and Keeper of the Grounds," she said. "He's a professor, and one of the most popular ones at Hogwarts. Everybody loves him, even the Slytherins - of course, Creature Care is one of the biggest fields people go into after they graduate, so you'll hear all about him even if it's not your area of interest. Speaking of which, what are _you_ interested in? Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?"

Ray shrugged. "As long as it's not behind a desk doing a bunch of paperwork... I'm still not sure. What about you?"

Ellen smiled. "Maybe crafting! Wouldn't it be cool to invent the next writer?"

Suddenly, everyone came to a stop: they'd reached a room. Professor Donarko ushered them inside, and they found themselves in readying-chamber of sorts: no windows, only cubbies and a few of the moving paintings Douglas had mentioned along the walls. Next to a door on the opposite end was a short stool, and something that looked like a black burlap sack crumpled atop it. This, Ray realized, must be the Sorting Hat.

Ray, Ellen, Potter, and Olivia were the first to enter the room after Hagrid, and they watched interestedly as he strode the length of it to the door, pick up the stool and Hat, then grin and wave at them (Ellen, Potter, and Olivia all waved back; Ray only doing so after a moment's hesitation), and slip out of the room. A rush of noise swept through the doorway from whatever crowd there was on the opposite side, before the door closed and sealed it away again.

Then a minute passed, and all the first years were gathered into the room. She saw Chase and Edgar in a corner, slouching against the wall and talking, saw Zach, who was in the middle of the crowd and standing a good few inches above everyone else (he gave a friendly smile when he saw her), and somewhere in the back were a cluster of girls in hijabs, one of which was purple and must have belonged to Fawzia.

"You are about to enter the Great Hall and be Sorted," Professor Donarko said. Everyone went dead quiet, and in the silence Ray started getting self-conscious again, particularly as she was the only one dripping wet.

"This is an important and ancient ceremony that will have a deciding impact on your experience at Hogwarts," he continued. "It marks a new beginning for you, and many of you will find that your years spent here will be some of the most memorable of your lives. Mark you treat them well. In a few moments we will proceed through the door behind me, where you will be presented before the three Houses and be delivered into one of them. This House will be something like your family while you're here at Hogwarts..."

And so Ray listened.


	14. Evan

There was the small sound of paper slipping across paper. It was so subtle that it would've gone completely unnoticed if someone hadn't been listening for it - and Alice _had_ been - so she paused in her work, and reached across her desk. Sure enough, one of the tabs in her writer had stuck itself out a bit further from its page, and when she opened it up, saw a few words written there for her:

 _On my way up!_

It was from her friend, Wendy, who was doing some last-minute preparation before the year began just like she was. All the important stuff was more-or-less out of the way, of course, but there were always a few odds-and-ends that needed to be memorized or double-checked or scrubbed clean before you could call your work done.

 _Alright,_ Alice scrawled. _Be right there!_

She was in the Potion's Research Laboratory, or "Pearl", which doubled as her office, even though she had a room set aside for her next to her classroom. Behind her was her research assistant, Kingsley, who was very intent on their work as always - at that exact moment he was bent over a huge, black cauldron, big enough to fit a fully-grown man, and was studiously peering at its contents while stirring with a large, wooden spoon. As always, he was dressed in the appropriate personal protective equipment: dragon-hide gloves, _imperviused_ glass goggles and respirator cloth, and a heavy smock to block any sudden splashes or bursts. All of it seemed a bit over-the-top for the dilution experiment he was running, but procedures were procedures and you couldn't fault a person for sticking to them.

"I'm going down to the feast, Kingsley!" she called.

"Oh, okay!" he said, voice light with Nigerian.

"You sure you don't want to come down? I bet a spot could be drawn up for you no trouble."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I think I will stay here. Thank you!"

"Alright... well, make sure you call the house-elves to bring you something up."

"Yes, I was thinking I would take my dinner soon."

She grinned. "Chicken and rice?"

He laughed. "Chicken and _rice!_ " he repeated, the joke familiar between them - he seemed to eat little else.

"Okay, well, see you soon!"

"Okay see you!"

Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in her Professor's Uniform and waiting in the Entry Hall for Wendy. The upper-classmen were already coming in, and each time they appeared a chilly gust swept through the corridor. A few students waved at her, and she waved back cheerily and exchanged greetings, even though (she thought guiltily) she didn't know very many of their names.

At last, a squat, huffing figure squeezed through the doorway, and Alice happily stuck her writer in her robes.

"There you are!"

"Sorry," Wendy said, still catching her breath.

"You alright? You sound like you've just come up from the lake!"

"Oh -" Wendy waved her hand dismissively - "no, it's nothing, I just forgot to put out the last bag of feed for the thestrals! I was coming back in, all ready to come up, when I saw it sitting there, not a care in the world! I must've completely overlooked it!"

"So you're still needing to change, then?" she asked, as they set off toward the Professors' Quarters.

"Yes, but I'll just make do with a cleansing spell and save the bath for after the Feast."

"Probably for the best," Alice said, thinking of how short on time they were.

Once again, she waited out in the hall as Wendy got ready. Thankfully things went quite a bit quicker this time, and before long the two were making their way into the Great Hall with the mass of students. They walked between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, Alice getting a few more waves of greeting as they went, then made their way up the steps and found their spots at the Professor's Table.

Wendy plopped down contentedly into her seat. "Ah, that's more like it," she said. "Wish they had something a bit stronger than pumpkin juice, though."

"You could always make a request," Alice suggested. "I'm sure something could be worked out."

"Oh, no, it's no trouble," she said, and waved her hand again.

Processor Byron, a plump, jolly sort-of-man with rosy cheeks and a bushy moustache, nodded to them from Wendy's other side.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, "ready for the new year, are we?"

"Just about," said Alice.

"New?" cried Wendy - "My year never ended! Why, did you hear about what they've got me teaching this year? Auch Chickens! And Kneazles! Let me tell you, that is not a good combination. Why, this one night I was just getting wrapped up for the day, when I heard the most horrific ruckus you could imagine -"

Alice had already heard this story. Smiling, she tuned out and instead chose to gaze at the gathering assembly, the last bit of her lesson plans still simmering in her mind. She relaxed, content to sit there sipping pumpkin juice and watching the students gather at their tables, when suddenly somebody sat down on her other side.

"Hey there."

Alice turned, surprised - it was Evan, the school nurse, somebody who'd never really been much for words.

"You have a nice summer?" he asked. "See any interesting families?"

"Sorry?"

"That was you this year, wasn't it? Going out and introducing us to the Muggleborns. See any interesting families?"

"One or two," she said, giving a quizzical smile. "Why the interest?"

He shrugged.

"Just making conversation. I'm Evan Escere, by the way, and you're the Potions Professor?"

Of course Alice already knew who he was - he was one of the favorite topics of conversation amongst some of the mid-year girls, and she'd had one or two incidents where somebody would suddenly fall ill (in thanks, no doubt, to a Skiving Snackbox), and request to be sent to the Hospital Wing. Thankfully it was a rare incident for her - other professors, who had a bit _dryer_ of subjects, tended to deal with that kind of thing quite a bit more often.

"I'm Alice McDonnell," she said, smiling and shaking his hand. She expected him to have a firm grip, but it was actually rather gentle.

"Potions and Alchemy professor," she continued, "for the sixth and seventh-years, anyways. I'm surprised we haven't had a proper conversation before, although I suppose I _am_ still fairly new."

"Well, it's a big school. And I don't get out of the Hospital Wing too often. But I guess it is odd you've never come up... you must keep a pretty close watch on your health?"

"Oh, I get sick and stressed just as much as the rest," she laughed. "But it isn't too much to brew a pepper-up every now and then."

"Ah, right, of course."

"Why - if i may ask - haven't you come down to the feast before? Unless I've just missed you?"

"No, you're right - I don't usually get on much with the goings-ons around here. My research is usually enough to occupy me, but recently I've thought it might be good to... socialize a bit."

"That's something i can relate to. Although i suppose i get my fair share of socializing just from my job... what's your research?"

"Control and Prevention of Magical Diseases."

Alice's eyebrows raised. "You work for CAP? And you're able to do that here?"

"A lot of the background reading and data analysis. But for the experiments, I take a portkey or floo over to St. Mungo's."

"What sort of… diseases do you specialize in?"

"Nothing too crazy… predominantly the incurable. Lycanthropy, for instance - not something I go after personally, but it's one of the biggest Snitches in my field -"

"Golden Snitch?"

He laughed. "Yes, pardon the Quidditch reference. People have been trying to cure lycanthropy for centuries, and there's still been no headway. Treatment, sure, but no _cure_ \- so I go after more achievable cases. Or, at least things that _seem_ more achievable. What about you? You said you're in research?"

"Well, lycanthropy pretty crazy, at least from my perspective," Alice continued, still interested. "Why do you consider incurable diseases not that interesting?"

Evan gave an awkward laugh. "Crazy might have been a poor word. I suppose i meant contagious, or common, such as dragon pox or the wiggle flu. Incurable diseases don't spread much because their host typically tends to be highly symptomatic, and so they're more able to be identified and quarantined."

"Ah. Well, I suppose that makes sense."

"Yeah."

"Well, er, to answer your question, I _do_ do some research here, mostly with refining potion recipes. I have a bit with alchemy too, but that can get incredibly frustrating and tedious, so I usually leave it on the back-burner."

"Well, potions are interesting enough. There's a bit of brewing on my end too, actually - what kind of setup do you have?"

"As in, equipment? Oh, quite a bit! Distillation tubes, condensers, pipettes, adaptors, flasks, mortars and pestles, whatever kind of cauldrons or knives I need… an entire two walls of ingredient jars -"

He laughed. "Sounds impressive. I'd be interested to see it."

"You want to stop by sometime?"

"Sure, that could be fun."

She grinned.

"Although," he said, "I don't quite have my schedule set just yet... could I give you my tab?"

"Oh certainly," she said, pulling out her writer, "and here, I'll give you mine as well. It'd probably be good to have each other's contact anyways, seeing as we're coworkers!"

"Sure."

Alice pulled off a tab and swapped with him, then flipped to a New Contact Page and stuck his at the top.

"So, you've got a lot of instruments," Evan said, "do you get any funding from the big-name brewers?"

"I've gotten a bit here and there, but I usually put it toward the ingredients. A lot of my stuff I've actually picked up over the years, just from the freelancing I do -"

Suddenly, the door to the ready-room opened. There was a pronounced lull in conversation as Hagrid strode into the Great Hall carrying the stool and Sorting Hat and set them before the three Houses.

"Guess we're getting started, then," said Evan, as Hagrid climbed up (or stepped up, rather) to the far end of the table and sat next to Salma.

"Looks like it."

"Well, I'd be interested to hear more about your work sometime."

"Of course, and yours as well! It's always nice to meet someone with similar interests. Be sure to write me when a time opens up - I've usually got Saturday mornings free."

"Great."

The next moment, Donte led in the crowd of children. Alice couldn't help but smirk - Donte was a rather serious and intense man, and was the last person you'd expect to be charged with nearly a hundred eleven-year-olds, but that was Hogwarts for you. When he got halfway along the Professor's Table (right by the Sorting Hat) he stopped, but continued to usher the first-years past until they'd gathered evenly on either side.

One or two of them turned and looked up at the professors fearfully, but Alice smiled reassuringly when any looked her direction. One of the students - a girl - was soaked to the bone, and kept drawing the eyes of both the first-years and the students around the House Tables alike. And, of course, there was the white hair of the Zoldik boy ( _Nathaniel_ , she reminded herself), who was standing a short ways away, shoulders-back and proper. She almost nudged Evan and whispered _Now *that* was an interesting family_ , but it would've been in poor taste with the ceremony going on.

With the last of the first-years settled, the Great Hall fell silent. Everyone looked to the center of the room at the stool, and the air grew tense with anticipation. Then, suddenly, the Sorting Hat straightened up (and although she couldn't see its front) burst forth in song, its fabric jostling around and gruff voice carrying throughout the Hall:

 _Oh, I've been around a long good while,_

 _as you can surely see -_

 _Through every revolution, war, and horrible thing_

 _of the last few centuries._

 _And as the years come and go,_

 _one thing has kept along -_

 _a powerful force that steers us all,_

 _and it's the subject of this song._

 _Only once was there Attila the Hun_

 _and there will never be one the same;_

 _nor Hitler, Stalin, Grindelwald,_

 _or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

 _That powerful force drives the world_

 _through every day and age;_

 _it empowers the people of that nasty sort,_

 _and its name… is change._

 _But listen well and do not fear,_

 _for one thing is also true,_

 _it also built those who conquered them -_

 _change will always come due!_

 _So what to do in a world of strife,_

 _of constant twists and turns?_

 _There were once a few who had an idea:_

" _Humanity Must Learn."_

 _Godric Gryffindor said the world would be_

 _saved by those the bravest,_

 _who never fail to do what is just_

 _and always have the courage to face it;_

 _Helga Hufflepuff thought, too,_

 _that the world needed connection,_

 _that the hard-working and compassionate_

 _would surely be our salvation;_

 _Intelligence was chosen_

 _by Rowena Ravenclaw,_

 _Who thought acting with knowledge and wisdom_

 _must be the fundamental law,_

 _And Salazar Slytherin, who knew people well,_

 _said only those with power will rise;_

 _Ambition, drive, and tenacity_

 _build the leaders in their eyes._

 _Were all of them right, were all of them wrong?_

 _You'd think after all this time I'd know,_

 _but you humans are a tricky lot_

 _and don't put on a simple show._

 _So do what is best, study and learn,_

 _practice what makes you YOU,_

 _but never forget this single truth:_

 _change will always come due._

 _And though it seems we are gathered today_

 _and into their Houses divided,_

 _one must remember fervently_

 _that humanity is just one-sided._

 _So step on up, don't worry a bit,_

 _nobody's yet been misread,_

 _I'll tell you where you'll make your mark,_

 _just put me on your head!_

The Hat fell silent, and the Great Hall erupted into applause.

"Gets a bit more dramatic every year, doesn't it?" Wendy chortled next to her, clapping.

"Yes," Alice laughed, "and still going on about Hufflepuff!"

Evan leaned in next to her. "Maybe it's expecting something," he said. "Think it can see things we don't?"

Alice smiled, raising a single eyebrow - "Maybe?"

Before them, Donte went and stood in front of the Sorting Hat, awaiting the students to quiet again. Once they had done so, he spoke:

"We will now begin the Sorting," he said, voice magically amplified. "Please take a moment to welcome your Head Boy and Head Girl, Thomas Bluledge and Daniel Apricity, to the front of the school!"

And the Great Hall applauded once more.

* * *

The writer in Rachael's pocket suddenly shook violently. Alarmed, she scrambled to pull it out of her robes.

"What's up?" her friend asked.

"Urgent message, feels like!"

Opening the book discretely below the table, Rachael found herself on Douglas's page. His disorderly handwriting was there on the lines, bearing just a single sentence:

 _Could you please dry my sister?_

* * *

The Head Boy and Girl took up spots on either side of the Sorting Hat, each with a scroll in hand. Donte had returned to his seat next the Headmistress, looking just as ruffled as he always did after dealing with the student body, and in the next moment, the Sorting began.

"Abdulmajid, Michael!" shouted Daniel Apricity.

A skinny, tan boy walked rigidly away from the crowd and up to the stool. Thomas Bluledge moved in and grabbed up the Sorting Hat by its top, and once Michael took his seat placed it down upon his head. The Hat was still for a moment, then leaned back, shouting:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Great Hall broke into laughter. The boy got up and stood there awkwardly, the styled gray-and-white fringes of his uniform transforming into black and yellow. Thomas Bluledge set the Hat down and patted Michael sympathetically on the shoulder, guiding him away from the center of attention, and had a whispered conversation with him.

Even though she couldn't see their faces, Alice knew what was going on: Thomas was asking the boy if he had a house preference (the boy was shaking his head), then re-sorting him. Thomas would check to see how the House numbers were doing (as she watched, he unrolled his scroll just enough to peak at the counts), then with a sweep of his wand, he transformed the black-and-yellow styling on the boy's robes to silver and green. He announced "SLYTHERIN!" in a booming voice, and the table along the right wall erupted into applause.

He then returned to his spot and read from the scroll:

"Al-Hashemi, Jericho!"

The new boy took the seat, and this time Daniel was the one to place the Hat upon their head.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

As the Gryffindor table on the opposite side of the Hall exploded into cheering, a sudden movement caught Alice's eye: one of the older students, a seventh year by the looks of it ( _was that Rachael Nyare?_ ), was creeping hurriedly along the Ravenclaw table, then inserted herself at a spot much nearer the first years. This took the students on either side of her by surprise, but they welcomed her nonetheless. Interested, Alice kept watch as the next student was sorted.

"Avesberry, Charlotte!" shouted Daniel.

"GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the Hat.

It happened almost too quickly to catch: Rachael pulled out her wand, kept it low by her waist, and muttered something inaudible toward the crowd of first-years. Alice traced the trajectory of the spell and saw its target: the wet girl. In a matter of seconds the girl's hair, clothes, and floor around her dried of water, and if not for the next student being called up to the stool ("Bailey, Richard!"), she was sure the updraft of steam would have been noticed by the crowd.

She smiled - apparently, the girl had some friends looking after her. And, now that her hair wasn't plastered around her face, Alice recognized her - was that the Muggleborn from the farm, with the dogs?

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat.

More laughter.

"Wow," Wendy muttured to her, "rare to get two so early on, isn't it?"

Daniel sorted Richard into Ravenclaw, and Alice clapped along with the rest as the Sorting continued. However, not even five kids later, it happened again:

"Brian, Chase!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"What's it playing at?" Wendy asked, as Chase went to Gryffindor. "Or maybe they're just not as shy on Hufflepuff this year?"

"Weren't you sorted into Hufflepuff?" Alice asked.

Wendy blinked, caught off-guard. "Well, yes, I _suppose_ I was, technically…"

Evan spoke up: "Do either of you know how close we are to opening up the House again?"

"Closest we've been in years!" said Professor Byron enthusiastically, leaning in from the other side.

Alice and Wendy raised eyebrows at each other.

However, after that, the Sorting apparently returned to normal. There were three Slytherins, a Ravenclaw, two Gryffindors, a -

" _WHAT?_ "

The Muggleborn girl from the farm had shouted after "Cole, Heather" was called up. She was quickly elbowed into silence by the first-years around her, but it didn't look like she wasn't about to call out again anyways - she was standing there, mouth agape, frozen in place.

Alice cocked an eyebrow. That first-year definitely had the markings of a troublemaker - they hadn't even gotten to the welcoming feast yet and she'd already taken a swim in the lake, had connections with upper-classmen, and didn't seem to be shy about making outbursts.

"You know who that is?" Evan asked, noticing her look.

" _Ray_ ," she said, suddenly remembering. "Or, er, sorry - a first-year from out in Dorset, Muggle-born. More or less."

Evan leaned back in his seat, expression contemplative.

"Do you have the first-year classes in the mornings?" he asked.

"Yes, actually. What are you thinking?"

"Just that, if there's a lot of them like that -" he nodded - "then hopefully you've got a good wake-up potion."

"I do, as a matter of fact! It's a pretty simple recipe, _and_ one of the best I've come across."

"Really? What's it called?"

She smiled. "A mocaccino."


	15. The Sorting Hat

Nathaniel watched as "Cole, Heather" went to Ravenclaw. What was it that made that girl - the one who'd been rescued by the giant squid (Ray, he thought) - shout out? Just what kind of person was she? She seemed to have a talent for drawing attention to herself. All the other first-years had been talking about her the entire way up to the castle, and apparently she'd gotten in a fight with one of the popular kids while on the train too. Whoever she was, he was going to have to keep a watch on her. Should she prove to be received favorably by their class, it might be useful to get to know her - but if not, he'd have to steer clear. He had to build his image up, after all.

Unfortunately, he'd already had to make a slight adjustment to his plans. He'd been hoping they'd be Sorted based on prior academic performance - that was how it was in colleges, at least, where those with the most credits and highest GPAs got earlier enrollment opportunities - but here, it seemed things were going alphabetically. Which meant he, Nathaniel Zoldik, was probably going to be the last person in line. However, that wasn't without its advantages - his father had told him long ago that because he'd be called on last a lot, it was important for him to use the recognition to his advantage: people would be waiting to hear his name, and if they were waiting to hear his name, they'd be looking at him. It was a small thing, of course, but every little bit _counts. Stand shoulders-back and proper_ , his father had said. _Focus on whatever's at the center of attention. Don't fidget. And stay relaxed._

Of course, you couldn't be a complete statue all the time, or people would get bored of you. His father had said that, too. There was a lot of balancing to the whole thing, a lot of subtle details that went into weaving your way to the top of the pyramid, and to be honest, Nathaniel wasn't all that interested in it. He knew he should be, and he _did_ do everything he was told, but at the back of his mind he was really just waiting for everything to be done with so he could go back to reading his PDFs, or watching a TV show, or looking at articles and scrolling through chat forums.

And the other children - they just weren't all that interesting, next to the characters in the stories he read. Their problems were simple and ordinary, their goals short-term and uncomplicated, their personalities and thoughts understandable and easy to predict. He wasn't claiming he was better than them, or anything like that; his parents made sure he knew working with people was an essential life skill, but he just… wasn't interested. Besides, it wasn't like he'd ever had a hard time of it. People were always trying to get to know _him_ , in his experience, and even though he knew it was most likely due to his family name he couldn't imagine things would be that different here. Every time he went to a new school there would be a day or two of anonymity, then word would spread through the halls and he'd be known once again.

However, in the present circumstance, it didn't really matter one way or the other. He was stuck here, watching people get funnelled into their houses, and it didn't do any good thinking about something else if you couldn't be doing it. _Make the most of every moment. Invest yourself and be involved, because you'll never know where things will lead,_ said his father's voice. The girls from the train, Abigail Crosswater and Bell Diggle, had allowed him for some diversion, but now that they were at their tables and he was left alone not knowing anyone, the only thing he had left to focus on was his appearance. He couldn't plan, because he didn't know enough about the culture of the school yet. He couldn't build any connections or friendships, because they weren't supposed to talk or fidget - Professor Donarko had made sure they knew that. There was a bit of movement every time someone was called up, and in those moments he tried to nod politely to anyone that looked in his direction, but it was impossible to pivot those moments into anything more substantial. There simply wasn't a way to play the social-interaction game, given the circumstances, talking or not, so all he had to do was stand there, shoulders-back, attentive, relaxed, and wait.

To keep himself entertained, he tried to study the Sorting Hat's behavior: it was truly the first non-human, non-robotic intelligence he'd seen, and there was plenty fascinating about it. For one, it was hundreds and hundreds of years old, and not only still cognisant, but it seemed entirely resilient to being tugged off peoples' heads all the time. Could it recite the events of history, Nathaniel wondered, unbiased and impartially, from memory? What if it were to say something that contrasted with what they knew in the books? Could it be trusted as an unbiased source, and potentially create some upheaval in the political scene? He was interested to find out, but he doubted he'd have time when it was his turn to go.

The way people were Sorted also seemed to lack pattern - the Hat would get placed on someone's head, stew for a little while, then bellow out a house name at random. The amount of time it took to reach a decision varied, too, for some being almost instant, and for others it would take a minute or more, sitting there and muttering, before speaking. _Potter, Devin_ , for example, (which may have been the popular boy Ray had gotten in a fight with) sat on the stool for what must have been nearly two minutes - he'd started out whispering _Not Slytherin_ , quickly switched to _Not Hufflepuff_ , then fell silent and appeared to be in a mental battle with the Hat until he was finally proclaimed a Gryffindor.

Nathaniel wasn't sure what the whole deal was with Hufflepuff. He knew it'd been one of the four houses at one point; _Hogwarts, A History_ said as much, yet there were only tables for Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. What's more, it didn't appear that any fewer students were being called for it - in fact, with the rough numbering Nathaniel was trying to do in his head, it almost seemed like there were _more_ Hufflepuffs being called than the others. Had that not been the case, it could have been that the House had simply been suspended because nobody ever wanted to get sorted into it.

As if exemplifying the fact, "Quemado, Edgar" was sorted into Hufflepuff after another long stretch of muttering. Nathaniel wondered if the students that took a longer time, or seemed to be doing that mental-battle thing, were actually in conversation and demanding the Hat place them in the house they wanted. However, Edgar quickly requested to be placed in Gryffindor once the Head Girl asked him, and after the black-and-yellow warmed into scarlet and gold he raced over to a spot next to another first-year as if he'd been planning to do it the whole time.

Nathaniel couldn't make sense of it. Which, in his mind, might be perfectly okay. Sometimes you didn't have enough information to make a worthwhile conclusion about something, and it was better to not come up with ideas that you might get attached to. That was all the more reason not to think too hard about things at all, and instead just not pay attention - if anything important ever came up, it would obviously be too distracting to allow for thinking about other things, so if he _was able_ to not pay attention, then it was probably okay to do so.

They moved through the Rs, the Ss, and were proceeding through the Ts. Despite the repetitiveness of the event, Nathaniel actually began focusing in on the proceedings: they were finally nearing the end, and then it'd be his turn and he could move on to getting to know his peers. He'd done a quick estimation of the crowd size when they first started and thought there might be seventy or so first-years, not including the ones that'd already done it in the weeks leading up to term. Nathaniel had actually requested to do this himself when Mr. Graves mentioned it, but his father had wanted him to go through the ordeal. _It'll be a good experience,_ his father had said, even though Nathaniel knew he just liked pushing him on stage every chance he got.

"Usher, Kendra" went to Ravenclaw, and the cluster first-years tightened even further. There were now only twelve of them, and among them, still, happened to be that girl Ray. Nathaniel couldn't help but pay attention to her - she didn't seem the foolish sort. She was in quiet whisperings with her friend, and would look around smartly or wait until a noisy moment before muttering something, and wasn't dancing around in place like some of the other first-years. Well, there was the impatient tip-tapping every now and then, but everyone did that, himself included.

"Utoombi, Boko" went to Ravenclaw, and Nathaniel noticed both the Head Girl and Head Boy had straws that they sipped whenever they could be discreet, which were presumably connected to a water or juice reservoir somewhere.

"Vo, Hoa" was the only V, and went to Gryffindor. Then they got into the Ws. Nathaniel was always envious of the Ws, even though you couldn't beat the recognition a Z brought you. The Ws always came in larger groups, and even though he shared the same experience with them of knowing what it was like to be at the end of a list, him being a Z prevented him from counting as part of their group. He expected everyone there to be a W, in fact, with the names being as common as they were.

"Waverly, Sharon" went to Hufflepuff, then transferred to Slytherin, then there were three Weasleys, one to Ravenclaw and two to Gryffindor (one of whom was the girl Ray had been talking to). Then "Winston, Jarod" went to Hufflepuff, and as he was transferred to Ravenclaw Nathaniel noticed the Hall grow quiet. Had something happened?

Regardless, the Head Boy moved forward and called "Winters, Brauk", and then it was just three of them left: Nathaniel, Ray, and a blonde girl with pigtails. Nathaniel's heart rate was picking up, and he couldn't help but notice the people at the tables muttering and looking at him. Normally it would have prompted him to resume his composure, but it would have looked out of place to go rigid all of a sudden.

"GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the Hat, then the Head Girl sprang forward and called "Yaxley, Monica!"

Nathaniel raised eyebrows at the surprise Y, and saw Ray glance at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked at her, too - _was she a Y? Were Ys more common amongst magic people?_

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat, and what noise had been in the Hall cut to silence once more. As the Head Boy sorted her into Ravenclaw, the muttering rose again, even louder this time - what were they talking about?

The Head Boy then returned to the center of the room, and Nathaniel gave a farewell nod to the Ray girl. He was almost up.

"Zoldik, Nathaniel!"

His mind stuttered. _What?_ He looked at her in disbelief, but she just raised her eyebrows at him and kept the same anxious, bewildered expression all of them had been wearing for the last five minutes. _She was a Z? *And* had a name that came after his?_

Nathaniel turned and walked to the seat, slightly disoriented, his heart rate rising even further. He looked up at the towering, seventh-year Head Girl - Daniel Apricity, he reminded himself - who was smiling down at him with the same encouraging expression she'd given to every other first-year for the last hour. He sat on the stool - everyone at the tables was really staring at him now, intently, much moreso than they had for anyone else, he was sure of it - and then, the Hat was placed on his head.

Immediately, Nathaniel's thoughts were swept away from him. The school blurred, as though dropped behind a waterfall, and he was left with his memories surging around him, out of control, as the Hat tore through his mind -

He was five years old, in the hallway of his house, hearing his father shout at a man in his study. He raced to his room, his window, saw the driveway, saw the man get into his car and sit there, hands clenched on the wheel, red-faced, crying -

He was older, in the backseat of a car with his mother, Hass driving, she was tugging him away from the window, where the homeless people were camping and milling about below the underpass, he was told to look forward -

He was ten, at school, knuckle-jabbing a bully twice his size until then they they were curled on the ground and whimpering… he was with his father, his father stern, telling him to _think before acting_... he was in his room, spending hours and hours scrolling through the internet, through his PDFs, through his articles, the sun rising and falling as the hours of the day rushed by... and suddenly the Paper Man was with him, reading along on his shoulder, and he was getting his wand, and the skeleton-horse was snorting at him and staring with its blank, white eyes...

His whole life was passing before him. Every thought he'd had, every moment he'd experienced, every person he'd known, forgotten, ignored, helped, shooting through his mind. He tried to be smart and aggressive like his father; stoic and controlled like his mother; understanding and patient like Hass; disciplined and tough like Sensei. The Hat was tearing through him, splitting his head open, watching everything spray out like a fountain, impartial, disinterested, enveloping. He remembered spending hours alone in his room, doing nothing to be proud of, he remembered sitting with his friends, all of them talking and trying to impress him, and realizing he himself didn't have anything interesting to share, he remembered completing homeworks and learning fighting moves and being complemented, sure, but feeling hollow, like it wasn't _him_ they were acknowledging, but only the work he'd done. None of it was his, not once had he'd made a choice because he'd wanted to, never once had he actually done something he was interested in. _What did he have to say for himself? What did he like to do? Who was he?_

 _Stop,_ he found himself thinking. _Stop, stop, please._

And it did. Suddenly he was back in the Hall, back in front of all the upper-classmen, feeling hot in the face and gripping the seat of the stool, pulse thumping, mind still whirling.

"That's quite the life you've lived," a voice grumbled into his ear, "quite the life."

It was the Hat. The Hat was talking to him.

"I do apologize, dear child, but there's simply no way to go about Sorting a person who doesn't think about themselves."

The Sorting. He'd almost forgotten why he was here.

"And that's exactly the problem. You've gone through life not thinking about things, not being interested in things, and so you're always _forgetting_ about them."

Was the Hat reading his thoughts?

"Of course I am, boy. That's my job, isn't it? And believe you me, you could certainly stand to have your thoughts read."

Suddenly, Nathaniel was taken to a memory of him sitting on a couch in a therapist's office - Dr. Poole's - and being asked questions about himself, and him only giving the answers he knew he was supposed to, Dr. Poole making notes on his clipboard all the while.

"That doctor was quite useless, if you want my opinion," grumbled the Hat. "Only wanted to deliver good news to your father, no doubt, and only ever asked questions you already knew the answers to. The best questions are those you have to spend a bit of time on, and actually _learn_ something in the process. Here's a question for you: what kind of person do you want to be?"

Nathaniel thought of his father.

"No, boy, not what kind of person _should_ you be, or are _expected_ to be, but what kind do you _want_ to be?"

Nathaniel began cycling through all the people he knew of - his mother, Hass, Sensei, his teachers -

"You humans," grumbled the Hat, "always looking for examples. Well, you have to learn from somewhere, I suppose, but too often do you spend time trying to be someone, rather than just going and _being_ someone. So I'll tell you this - start paying more attention to yourself. Your books will only take you so far, and they won't make you a person, though Rowena would probably burn me alive herself for saying such things. If you want to have a good life, you've got to start living. And if you don't have any interests or hobbies to speak of, it makes you rather difficult to Sort."

 _Difficult to Sort? Did that mean he was going to have to choose a house?_

"No, no, don't you worry, I think I've got the one picked out for you. Of course it's up to you in the end, but I've been doing this for long enough and i think is know where you'd do best. And no, it's not Slytherin - that would have been the house favored by your father, I'm sure, and were he here in your stead, I'm sure that's where he'd be going - but you are not him. Now, if you were any earlier on the list I'd've suggested you try to get into Ravenclaw, but as it is, you won't need to try to get into anywhere. Oh, they're not going to like me for this," the Hat chuckled, "but, it's not my job to be liked. Well, then -" and then the Hat leaned back, opened its mouth, and bellowed -


	16. The Sorting Hat (Part 2)

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Silence.

Then, suddenly, a great rumbling shook the floor - silverware clattered, drinks sloshed in cups, and a second later Nathaniel saw what was happening: the room was getting bigger. Not only that, the tables were moving, each of them being carried along on the cobbled floor like a conveyor belt with the students along for the ride, all of them looking about frantically and shouting at one another while trying to keep the pitchers of pumpkin juice from falling in their laps.

The Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables were moving to the right, the Gryffindor table to the left, and between them, where more cobble was rising up and fitting into place, rose two wooden poles, with a long plank stretched vertically between them. The poles divided as they grew, thickened into beams, and the plank folded out into a long, flat surface, until it all became a table just as big as the ones next to it, and benches scooted out on either side. The flags along the walls made room, too, the blue and green sliding one way and the red the other, and a large, yellow one unfurled between them, with a badger caressing an H sewn upon it to join the raven, snake, and lion on the others. Then, finally, the Hall fell still.

And then chaos broke out. Shouts of outrage rose from the tables, and Nathaniel saw why - as some students stood from their seats, it seemed their uniforms had reverted to black and yellow. The striking contrast made them stand out strikingly from their surrounding housemates like bumblebees amongst flowers. Suddenly, with alarm, Nathaniel realized the students were pointing and gesturing angrily at him!

The Hat roared with laughter. "It's not you, boy, it's me! And the professors!"

 _What's funny?_ Nathaniel asked.

"I hit the mark, boy, I hit the mark! There hasn't been a Hufflepuff house in over a decade, but the stigma's been falling the last few years and I knew it wouldn't be long til it rose again!"

So there had been some stigma after all. _Why did it go away?_

"Why? Well, you've already guessed it, boy, people just didn't want to go in! Nobody respected the House values! Everybody's trying to make a name for themselves nowadays, and they're all forgetting there's more important things than everybody knowing who you are. And yes, I know that's exactly what _you're_ trying to do, but you'll see this is for the best, trust me. Your father will likely even end up agreeing with me, so don't worry yourself. And besides, you should be happy - with all this, nobody's going to remember you crying!"

Alarmed, Nathaniel quickly smushed his palms at his eyes and, indeed, found them wet.

"Oh, try to be a _bit_ more obvious, why don't you?" said the Hat. "But I do apologize, dear boy - I would have been gentler if I could, as I've said, but sometimes you have to take the hard route. You're really done a job of closing yourself up. Hate me if you must - I will bear it. The good news is there won't be any lasting damage."

Nathaniel's eyebrows shot up with alarm. _What?!_

"Yes, your fragile emotional state. Some students would get quite the trauma if I were any less competent than I am. Remember in your readings, boy, of human memory? The backbone of your recollection is emotion, not information, and as long as I'm on your head I can put a dampener on all that."

Before Nathaniel could respond, the clanging of a fork against a metal goblet rang throughout the Hall. Nathaniel twisted in his seat, the Sorting Hat almost toppling from his head, and saw Professor Donarko and the Headmistress standing at their spots.

"Those of you dressed in the Hufflepuff House colors, please report to the front of the school," boomed Professor Donarko above the clamor. Apparently content to let him handle it, the Headmistress settled happily back into her seat.

"As of the most recent sorting, enough Hufflepuffs have been chosen to repopulate the House. As such, it will be reinstated in full alongside Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin!"

The Hall roared with protesting.

"This was an eventuality you were all prepared for during the end of last year, and so should not come as a surprise! The numbers have been close for years now, you should all have been ready!"

Oddly enough, this didn't do much to abate the students' anger.

"I know this will not be easy," boomed Professor Donarko over the continued shouting of the gathering black-and-yellow uniforms. "Many of you have grown accustomed to your Houses, and I know some of you will find the change an unpleasant process. However, this is an excellent learning opportunity, for you seventh years in particular - the real world does not always allow us to work with the people we are familiar with, and as such it is essential to develop your interpersonal skills!"

At that, some of the shouting faltered.

"You may not know the people in Hufflepuff. You may not like them, and you may not agree with the way they choose to conduct themselves. This is a good thing! By exposing yourself to people of different behaviors, you will grow rapidly and develop a dexterity of character! And rest assured, your friends will still be available to spend time with outside of your classes…"

As Professor Donarko spoke, the position Nathaniel was in began dawning on him in horror. He was the cause of all this - the reason Hufflepuff returned - people were going to absolutely hate him.

"Relax, boy," grumbled the Hat, just loud enough for Nathaniel to hear - "this will be good for you."

 _Good for me? It might put me in the spotlight, but I've never dealt with this much attention so suddenly, nevermind so negative and from an unknown audience -_

"They're people. Just people. I'm sure you've found there's a good deal that stays the same about people, wherever you go."

 _But why me? I've got enough going on, I'm Muggle-born -_

"Why you?" Nathaniel felt a mental bark of laughter the Hat had suppressed. "Why _not_ you? It could have been anyone. What makes you any different? You saw how everyone was paying more attention toward the end, every time I called a Hufflepuff out. It could have _just_ as easily been Sharon Waverly or Monica Yaxley. Don't mistake it for fate, or destiny, or any of that drivel. There may be a few wizards that believe in that sort of thing, but I am no such wizard. I am a hat. And I have had many, many wizards pass under me, and in none of them was there ever a circumstance that they didn't play into of their own accord or that arose from easily explicable events. And you can tell people that if they blame you, so try to relax. I am certain you will manage, _if_ you put in the effort to do so."

Nathaniel didn't like it, but the Hat had a point. He was just as much responsible for Hufflepuff as every other member that had been sorted into the house, and if he responded to any blame with that, he could quickly separate himself from the cause of their troubles. The trick would be reinforcing that Hufflepuff was a good thing, and flipping their unhappiness around into gratefulness like Professor Donarko was suggesting.

"...As for tonight," Professor Donarko continued, "you may remain at your places for the duration of the feast. While the Hufflepuff table _shall_ be used in the future, the Headmistress has decided its use will not be enforced this evening. Nevertheless, the House will adopt the same solidarity seen in the others - it will earn its own points, be managed by its own prefects, and participate as a united front during school events. Following the meal, all Hufflepuffs are to convene in the Entry Hall, where you will be guided to the common room and dorms by a professor. There you will find your belongings, and there you shall sleep this evening. And now," he said, speaking over the sudden rise voices, "please return to your seats, so we may finish the Sorting! More time for discussion shall be provided for the Hufflepuffs later, but for now, let us have the courtesy of allowing the remaining first-years - of which there is only one - to be placed into their House!"

* * *

Ray shared a glance with the white-haired boy, who was still sitting on the stool with the Sorting Hat slumped on his head. All the other black-and-yellow Hufflepuffs around him were still either there, deciding if they should keep protesting, or making their way back to the tables. However, when the Head Boy injected himself to collect the Hat from the boy's head, the protesters' attention broke and they grumpily went back to their seats.

Ray's heart thudded nervously, and she had to stop herself from running to the Head Boy, grabbing the Hat, and making it sort her before everyone could get settled again. She didn't have problem with everyone staring at her, of course, she just wanted it to be over and done with - that boy had been on the stool for a lot longer than any of the other kids, and what if it took just as long for her? What if she had to do some long discussion with it before it finally placed her somewhere, while the whole school was watching, waiting, wishing for it to be over with, hungry and already mad?

By the time the white-haired boy had taken a spot at the Ravenclaw table, everyone else was sitting again and the Hall had quieted a bit, even though there was no stopping the side-conversations at this point. Then, deciding the time was right, the Head Girl unravelled her scroll, cleared her throat, and called her name:

"Zuwaldt, Rayleigh!"

Swallowing, Ray stepped quickly over to the stool and dropped sideways into it, sticking out a foot to brace herself. What if she ended up in Hufflepuff too? Or - she saw Douglas's face in the crowd - would he be mad, if she went into Slytherin? It really didn't seem like such a terrible thing, after all. She definitely didn't think she could do Ravenclaw, now that Cole _(Cole,_ _of all people!_ ) had gotten into that one.

Then the Head Boy came in with the ancient wizarding hat. Ray braced herself. This was it. _Slytherin_ , she decided - _if she had to make a choice, it'd be Slytherin_. But no sooner had the Hat touched her head, than it bellowed out:

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	17. The Headmaster

Ray stood and looked at the Gryffindor table along the right wall, now isolated from the rest of the school by the empty table. Half the gold-and-red trimmed students were still talking amongst themselves and not paying attention, but the other half were doing their best to give an enthusiastic welcome, and she couldn't help but return the smiles where they were. She was a real witch now - she was in it, for real - and looking down at herself, her uniform had indeed changed to match the colors of the Gryffindor house.

As the Head Boy relieved the Sorting Hat from her head, Ray set off excitedly toward the table. She spotted Ellen, who was sitting next to a stony-faced Potter, as well as the Longbottom boy and the small girl, Olivia. Ellen was smiling at her, but with a look of apprehension that Ray completely understood. She wasn't going to try and make friends with Potter just yet - he was the one who'd been mean to her, and she was going to wait for him to apologize. For the benefit of the meal, she knew it'd be best if she sat elsewhere.

Giving her a wave of acknowledgement, Ray went on and spotted something that made her stop right in her tracks. Sitting there, two spots open on either side of it, was a vivid, white hologram of a person. She almost started to look for a projection source, then realized - no, it wasn't a hologram at all - it was a ghost. An actual ghost.

Hesitantly at first, then committing, Ray set off toward the shimmering being and paused at its side.

"That's Nearly-Headless Nick!" said one of the nearby Gryffindor girls enthusiastically, noticing her bewilderment. "Don't be frightened, come and have a sit-down! Your name was Ray-lee, wasn't it? Bit of an unusual name, that."

"Just Ray," she said, smiling, as the ghost turned its attention to her. It looked like a man, dressed in a frilly costume, and sporting fancy facial hair. On his head was an old-fashioned, triangular hat with a large feather in it.

"Hello, young lady!" said the ghost. " _Sir_ Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service," he said pointedly at the girl, "resident ghost of Gryffindor House!"

"I'm Ray," she said again, sitting into one of the two open spots.

"And I'm Jasmine," the girl cut back in, "fifth-year. Welcome to Gryffindor!"

"Thank you!"

"And I'm Peter," said a boy next to her.

Jasmine shook a finger at Ray thoughtfully - "You're not the first-year that fell in the lake, are you?"

Ray grinned. "I am, as a matter of fact."

Peter, who had only introduced himself half-heartedly, came to attention. "And you got rescued by the squid, did you? What was it like?"

With the two older students and Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington listening in, Ray went through the story for what must have been the twentieth time that evening. She made sure to embellish the exciting parts - the feeling of abandonment when she came to the surface of the lake and found herself alone in the freezing waves, the horror at discovering the tentacle wrapping around her, the feeling of powerlessness against its sheer strength when it tightened about her stomach and lifted her into the air.

There were a good five or six people listening by the time she'd finished, and she introduced herself all over again when they asked. She was made to go into a bit of detail as to who she was, what she liked to do, and where she was from, but she tried her best not to let on she was from a Muggle family. Jasmine and Peter told her a bit about themselves as well; Jasmine talking about how she was going into Wards, while Peter was studying Mapping.

Then, all at once, the serving bowls and platters up and down the table filled with delicious-smelling food, and that served as a breaking point for their conversation. This was perfectly fine with Ray - she'd had a question on her mind, and hadn't been able to get into the conversation in the first place.

"Er... Sir Nicholas?" she asked.

The ghost smiled at her.

"Hello, young lady!" he said delightedly. "Sir Nicholas does just fine. How might I be of service?"

"Well, I had a question," she said, talking a bit softer and leaning in so as not to disturb the people around her. The closer she got to Sir Nicholas, the cooler the air felt, as though he was letting off a fine mist.

"Yes, my dear? What is it?" he asked, quieting himself and studying her curiously. "I hope you're not wondering about that 'nearly-headless' business, are you?"

"Well... no…" she said, although she was curious about that too. "I was just wondering - if you knew - do Muggles have souls?"

* * *

"No, really, you should try it!" Alice insisted, shoving the bowl toward Evan. They were almost at the end of the feast, and she knew the deserts would be disappearing any moment. "It's good, I promise you."

Evan looked at her specially-requested pudding with skepticism.

"What do you think, Wendy?" he asked.

Wendy raised her hands noncommittally.

"Oh, come on, you said you liked it!" Alice admonished.

"It's not bad," she conceded, "but it is very sweet. And it's got a bit of an odd texture, particularly when the biscuits go soggy."

"That's why you eat it quickly!"

"Tell you what," said Evan, "I'll try a spoonful."

Alice and Wendy watched as he scooped a bit directly from the serving dish (which was acceptable as he hadn't used the spoon at all that meal) and stuck it in his mouth.

"Well?" Alice prompted.

"It _is_ very sweet," he said after a moment. "But, it's not bad."

"Did you get any banana?"

"I don't think so, but I can definitely taste it."

"It's better if you get the chunks, and a biscuit too!"

Alice could see he wasn't willing to commit, but before she could press him further she felt a tickle on her ear. Immediately, she swung up a hand to smack at whatever bug had managed to get into her hair, before remembering it was just the Headmaster's particular way of delivering messages.

Excusing herself, Alice got up and went to the back wall, where she grabbed her nose. Slowly, dull impressions touched her mind: the Headmaster's office, a slight sense of urgency, a request, and what might have been annoyance. She waited for a moment to see if there was more, but nothing else came.

"Looks like I've got to visit the Headmaster," she said, going back to the table.

"Ah, just as well," Evan sighed, dropping his napkin on his plate. "Feast is about over, isn't it?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Those poor dears," said Wendy, who was looking out at the few Hufflepuff first-years still at the almost empty house tables. One or two of them were even by themselves, stirring their desserts around and gazing longingly at the conversations the remaining older students were having.

"They should've been taken to their common room at ten with the other first-years!" Wendy said, "What were they thinking?"

"Maybe they forgot," said Evan. "It happens."

"Not with the Headmaster," said Alice. "She's usually very keen on the details… although, she doesn't _always_ follow up on them."

"Do either of you know where their common room is?" Wendy asked.

"By the kitchens, isn't it?"

"I think so. Do you know how to get in?"

Alice frowned. "I'm not sure. It's been a while since anyone tried."

They were silent for a moment, before Alice decided she couldn't ignore the Headmaster's summons anymore.

"Well, perhaps I'll ask while I'm up there," she said. "And if it's quick, maybe we can take them in ourselves. Where's Donte? Wasn't he supposed to be handling it?"

"I don't know, but it looks like he's already gone…"

That wasn't surprising - outside the three of them, there were only the two Astronomy professors, then Hagrid and Salma down at the end.

"I guess everybody got worn out from the excitement earlier," Alice guessed. "Well... hopefully I'll see you in a bit, but if not, have a good night!"

"Night!" called Wendy.

"Goodnight, good to meet you," said Evan.

"Good to meet you too!"

Alice left through the door to the ready-room and made her way to the Headmaster's Office. On her way, she saw a few woebegone Hufflepuffs hanging around in the Entry Hall, sitting on the floor or slouched against one of the columns, each of them with their heads in their writers. In one corner sat a large circle of first-year Muggle-borns, who were having a pitifully cheerful conversation. Resolving to get them into their common room as quickly as possible, Alice hurried on and came before the large, stone gargoyle outside the Headmaster's Office.

Sensing her intent, the gargoyle looked down at her.

"How do you calm a blibbering humdinger?" it asked, voice deep with history.

She thought for a few seconds. "Give it a drink?" she tried.

By way of response, the gargoyle stepped aside and the wall pulled apart to reveal the entryway. Alice entered and stepped up the winding spiral staircase, and with the combined movement of her steps and the revolving stairs she came into the waiting area outside the office in a matter of seconds. The space was empty outside of a single bench and a few chairs, but the door at the other end was wide open and ready for visitors.

"Professor? I'm here," she called, entering.

The Headmaster was sitting at her desk, working by candlelight. The desk had been moved up against the window overlooking the grounds, which left the center of the office barren of furniture aside from the large, plushy blue rug occupying the bulk of the floor. The back section of the office was stuffed with her files, paperwork, and bizarre instruments, which spilled around the edge of a massive bookshelf that had seemingly been installed to block everything off from view (or, so Alice thought). The remaining edges of the office were filled with glowing terrariums casting eery blue and green light, and all the flat surfaces of the walls were buried under taxonomical and anatomical posters. The portraits of the previous headmasters had been moved, and were stuck upon the ceiling in a massive spiral, their occupants blinking down at them uncomfortably.

Alice found the effect somewhat bewildering: the rug and dim lighting brought a cozy, relaxed atmosphere, but the hidden mess behind the bookshelf and the awkward surveillance of all the portraits gave the feeling of unease. Something about the combination always caused her to feel slightly intoxicated - although that wasn't helped much at the moment by the wine she'd had.

"Professor McDonnell," said the Headmaster, and Alice was startled to find her staring at her. "You had a nice summer?"

The Headmaster herself was squat, aged, and had long, gray hair bound halfway and slung over a shoulder. She struck a rather odd figure, not only because she was currently sitting in a bizarre Muggle-fashioned swivel-chair, but everywhere she went she looked in a permanent state of alarm. Alice was a little weirded out by her to be honest, but she always conducted herself professionally and respectfully during their meetings.

"It certainly was a hot one," the Headmaster continued, speaking slowly. "Another year with no ice sheets, i think. And there's only so much that can be done to keep the Antarctic locked away... but let's not worry about that now. How was your summer?"

"Er…" Alice started, again finding herself without a clue as to what the Headmaster had been going on about - "it was nice! I had a few orders for Peace Draughts, which were an interesting couple of weeks. I was actually able to land a few horns from my friends... who are," she added quickly, "park rangers, they collected them during the winter -"

She couldn't read the Headmaster's expression and let herself fall silent. Fortunately, the matter wasn't pressed.

"In your report, you said everything went well with the letter deliveries," the Headmaster went on, "which was nice to hear. Muggle families can be a bit unreceptive. And my, you must have done a lot of flying, what with your condition."

Alice felt like she'd been slapped across the face: _your condition._ Alice blinked furiously, taken aback.

"Please - i would appreciate it if you didn't… talk about that."

"Oh - it affects you. I see. I do apologize. Please forgive me.".

Alice waved it away, trying to brush past it, even though the Headmaster didn't seem particularly sincere. _That's just how she speaks_ , she reminded herself, trying not to let her panic set in, trying to focus on something else, anything else - _she's never been particularly gentle with her wording_ , Alice told herself _. The Headmaster is strange, she's weird, she's absent-minded, but she means no harm. She's just an oddball._

"You, er, wanted to ask something of me, if I understood correctly?"

"Yes."

Alice waited, slowly calming as she put all her effort into studying the Headmaster as she stood from her chair and joined her in the middle of the room. Alice had previously tried to assure her there was no need to stand on her account, but each time the Headmaster had acted as though she couldn't hear her. Apparently, standing was better for conversations, the Headmaster had said - hence the absence of furniture, and plushy rug. But Alice wasn't particularly keen on being in her office at the moment, no less having a conversation with her.

Finally, she looked up at Alice.

"Would you like to be Head of Hufflepuff House?"

" _What?_ " she said, caught completely off guard. "Me?"

"Yes. It would mean an increase in your duties. But you'd have an increase in your pay as well..."

"Er, I'm not sure -"

"You would be well-received," she pressed. "You are appreciated by both the students and faculty alike. But you do have your research that you prefer doing," she said, almost to herself, "and you're not very assertive. It would be a challenge for you to unite them. You could make it work, I think... but it would be a difficult year, and require a lot of personal investment."

Alice didn't say anything, feeling flustered.

"No, then?" the Headmaster asked.

"I - don't think - yes, I'm going to have to decline. But I do appreciate the consideration."

"That's okay," she said, breaking eye contact and going slowly back to her desk, her shoeless feet pressing into the rug. "You're a good professor, Alice. I'm glad to have you."

"...Er, you were considering other professors too, weren't you?" Alice asked, as she sat down again. The Headmaster turned back to her with a vacant stare.

"Of course. What do you think of Hagrid?"

" _Hagrid?_ "

"You don't think he'd be a good fit. I quite agree. But he has changed, since I was a girl."

"Er, Professor -"

"It's okay," she said again, and smiled serenely. "Is there anyone you'd like to suggest?"

Alice's mind raced. "Wendy," she named, without thinking. Although, now that she thought about it, Wendy actually _would_ be a good fit - she'd even said some things in the past that made it sound like she'd be up for the job. She was considerate, too… attentive, definitely assertive, and skilled at working with younger students…

The Headmaster was nodding. "Your friend. We shall see. Thank you, Alice." She revolved back to her desk.

"Um, Professor?" she asked, suddenly remembering. "Is there someone to let the Hufflepuffs into their common room?"

"They've been let in while we've been speaking..."

The Headmaster said nothing more and didn't look back again, and Alice stood there for a moment before realizing she'd been dismissed. Awkwardly, she made her way back into the waiting room, down the spiral staircase, and into the torch-lit hallway, the gargoyle settling back into place behind her. The whole time the Headmaster's comments were buzzing in her head: _your condition… you are appreciated… you're not assertive enough… it would be a challenge for you…_ Did the Headmaster think she was a child? She knew it was best to let her words slide and not trouble herself with whatever the Headmaster meant, but it wasn't easy.

Upon arriving back down at the first floor, she saw the students in the Entry Hall had cleared, and when she stuck her head in the Great Hall she saw it empty of everyone except the caretakers.

"Good evening, Professor!" one of them called, waving cheerily while pushing a mop - they were a young, sandy-haired boy, who Alice had met once or twice and thought might be a Squib. She thought they were all Squibs, in fact, but she'd never be rude enough to say so.

"Hullo!" she called back. "Just checking to see if everyone's gone from the feast!"

"Would the young mistress care for anything?" squeaked a house-elf, hurrying up to her. It wore the same teal hat as the rest of the caretaking staff, but instead of the worker's jacket and pants only had the Caretaker apron on over its modest tea-towel toga. "I can send for the kitchens, if you'd like, won't take a minute!"

"Oh, no, thank you, I'm perfectly alright. Thank you very much, though!"

The house-elf nodded and went back to its scrub brush and wash bucket, and Alice waved a farewell. Back in the Entry Hall, she stood still for a moment feeling the familiar wave of exhaustion, then made herself go back to the Pearl. More likely than not Kingsley had already seen to locking everything up for the evening, but she'd already committed to going through the motions herself before the year began. All along the way she tried to clear her mind, but it was always hard after talking with people - she got caught up in the Headmaster's abrasiveness, the pitiful cheerfulness of the caretakers, she even started thinking about Kingsley and all the work he was doing to make better opportunities for himself. The world was full of people, and people were full of problems, and if you wanted to get by you had to close your mind to it. Otherwise, when you got to bed, you wouldn't be able to sleep a wink, no matter how tired you were.


	18. Professor Donarko

"I DON'T GIVE A _DAMN!_ THIS IS _BULLSHIT!_ DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WORKING TO MAKE CONTACTS? DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING _STRESSFUL_ IT'S BEEN?"

Nathaniel stood a good distance away from the upper-classman, the other wide-eyed first years huddled around him.

"I'VE BEEN HERE FOR FIVE _BLOODY_ YEARS! I HAVE MY ENTIRE SCHEDULE WORKED OUT, AND THEY JUST GO AND CHANGE _EVERYTHING!_ THEY CAN'T _DO_ THIS! THEY CAN'T JUST DO WHATEVER THEY PLEASE, WITHOUT REGARDING HOW IT AFFECTS PEOPLE!"

The boy was raging at the small crowd of people in his year, the lot of them staring at him with frightened looks on their faces (including the ghost of a large, portly man, who was floating amongst them and had been the one that showed them into the common room).

"Look, they'll arrange it!" shouted one of the boys. "It'll work out!"

"OH YEAH? 'WORK OUT', WILL IT? SOME OF US HAVE OTHER THINGS GOING ON IN OUR LIVES BESIDES HOGWARTS, I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW! I'VE GOT A SCHEDULE I NEED TO KEEP! IF I CAN'T PERFORM, I LOSE MY CAREER, GOT IT? I'VE BEEN PLANNING FOR THE FALL SINCE _JUNE_ , AND NOW I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"Just talk to them! They'll figure it out!"

"I'VE ALREADY GOT EVERYTHING _FIGURED OUT!_ DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY CLASSES I'M TAKING? DO YOU KNOW HOW _DIFFICULT_ IT WAS TO ARRANGE MY COURSES? WHAT DO YOU KNOW? YOU'RE JUST A STUPID GRYFFINDOR, SOME OF DON'T WANT TO BE SHOVELING DUNG FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES -"

"STOP SHOUTING IN MY FACE!"

The angry boy had gotten a bit too close, and as he was shoved back there was a tense moment where it looked like a scuffle was about to break out. However, right at that moment the stone door to the common room rolled open, and Professor Donarko came sweeping in.

"What is this noise?!" he boomed, surveying the room.

Eyes fiery with injustice, the angry boy turned on him.

"PUT ME BACK IN SLYTHERIN!" he demanded. "THIS ISN'T FAIR, YOU CAN'T -"

But at that moment, sound stopped coming from his mouth.

"I will not be spoken to in this manner," Professor Donarko said. "Mills, is it?"

The boy got his voice back, but it took him a moment to speak, and when he did so he directed it at the floor. "Yes, sir. Adam Mills, sir."

"Look up, Mr. Mills."

He did so, chewing his cheek, his face flushed with rage.

"You will wait outside the common room until I have finished addressing the new members of your house. At that point I will speak with you, and we will discuss your schedule and what disciplinary action you may face for your outburst just now. _I will not tolerate such displays_ ," he stated to the room, then to Adam - "Go."

Everyone watched as he stepped out the circular exitway and the stone door roll heavily into place behind him.

"Now," said Professor Donarko, "for those of you who may be feeling similarly to your housemate, you will be allowed conferences in a short while. For the rest of you -" he looked around the room again, meeting every pair of eyes once. "Welcome to Hufflepuff. Do not take offense at those who don't want to be here. Each person's life consists of unique complications that make their assimilation difficult and undesirable processes. Do not fault them for this.

"Going into the school year, it is essential for each of you to provide help and encouragement to your classmates. These are the virtues of Hufflepuff, and taking them upon yourselves will be to your credit, both academically and to your character - this will not be an easy year. The House currently stands as the smallest of all others, containing nearly half the average. As such, it will take a great deal of effort to compete against your school mates, and will make each of your accomplishments all the more impressive. Make no mistake - you will be watched. History will remember you. This is the first time Hufflepuff has returned after twelve years of absence, and how you conduct yourselves will not go unseen."

Professor Donarko continued talking, and Nathaniel let his mind drift. It was all things he'd heard before, and exactly what you'd expect in such a circumstance - the responsibility of the older students to lead, the importance of each person to put aside their differences and seek to understand those around them, the consequences and damages caused by dissonance and lack of communication. Nathaniel thought about the boy waiting outside in the hall, and how he must be feeling - every time someone was reprimanded, it was always interesting to see how they reacted. What was Adam Mills doing right now? Was he sitting there on one of the barrels, kneading his knees with his knuckles and fuming in anger, or was he pacing back and forth, muttering as he prepared for his talk with Professor Donarko? He couldn't imagine he was simply waiting there, calm and collected, after his outburst just now. And, in part, Nathaniel sympathized with him - he didn't know how big of an impact your assigned House was on your Hogwarts experience, but if it indeed was a determining factor in how your schedule layed out then any change would be understandably frustrating. The world ran on schedules, after all, and if the you'd created one that had to be completely thrown out, you might as well have lost all the time you'd put into it. And for the boy, that sounded like months.

That aside, Nathaniel was sure Adam would come to appreciate the new arrangements, provided things were worked back to a satisfactory order. As Professor Donarko had said, Hufflepuff was going to be one of the biggest topics on everyone's minds throughout the year, and likely for years to come. The Sorting Hat was right - this had truly been the best opportunity for Nathaniel. Regardless of whatever "house values" were emphasized, he was on stage now, and the world was watching. He just had to be impressive, make his choices carefully and present himself in a respectable manner, and everything would come along.

That said, it was a rather humble position to start - rather than the grandiose, awe-inspiring dormitories Nathaniel was used to, Hufflepuff House was, for lack of a better term, humble. There was nothing impressive or daunting about it like the towers of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, or secretive and powerful like the dungeons of Slytherin... Hufflepuff was placed in what could most easily be described as a storage area, on the main floor of the castle. The common room itself was dirty, dusty, full of dried plants, and more likely than not roomed a large amount of spiders, and it almost felt like more of an underground den than a respectable House dormitory. Hopefully, however, this was due to the lack of use, and the small human-like "house-elves" busying themselves around the place at the moment would have things in a better order by the time they'd finished. One of their representatives had even apologized upon their entrance for not completing things before their arrival, which was a good sign.

House-elves were certainly interesting creatures - Nathaniel almost broke from his well-practiced attentive pose to watch one of them dust the corner behind Professor Donarko, its massive ears projecting out each side of its bald head. From what he could tell, it seemed the lot of them were under a great deal of stress to get the job finished as quickly as possible, and it made him wonder just what sort of work requirements they faced, and what kind of disciplinary action they faced from a lacking performance. If their emotional spectrum was anywhere near human (and Nathaniel was inclined to believe it was), their mannerisms suggested they were extremely hard-working and detail-oriented workers, who held their productivity in the highest regard. If that were so, Nathaniel found it odd that they were dressed so poorly - he would have expected beings with their work ethic to be a bit more prideful in their appearances.

However, before he could begin rationalizing that, Professor Donarko's speech began to wrap. As he came to a close, one of the older students hesitantly raised a hand.

"Yes - Miss Montague, was it?"

"Yes, sir," said the girl. "I was wondering, Professor, has our Head of House been selected?"

Nathaniel noticed everyone was listening with baited breath.

"They have."

"Who is it, sir?"

"It is I."

Nobody spoke.

"Oh - that's... good, sir," said the girl, "that's very good, we'll be grateful to have you."

"I hope so, Miss Montague. In fact… I had only learned of the decision myself some moments before arriving here. So we shall be experiencing this together, and as your Head of House, your performance will be my responsibility. For those of you who do not know me, perhaps this is a good time to give myself an introduction.

"As you have seen, I do not tolerate sloppiness or unbecoming displays. Your conduct is of the utmost importance to excelling both in school and later in life. You will work diligently, and respectfully, and do your best to stand as model students of this school. Both I and the prefects who will be fortunate enough to be selected will monitor your behavior, and will dole out both punishment and reward. That said, if everyone puts in their best effort -" he paused, making it clear that he expected no less - "I am certain Hufflepuff will become the pride of Hogwarts by the year's end.

"I understand that this is stressful. Change always is. But I am not your enemy, I am your guide. If you pay attention to how you act, and put the values of this house at the forefront of our actions, you will have no reason to fear. Practice it well enough, and you won't even have to think about it. Nevertheless, this will be an intense year, and I dare say we will be working… closely together. I hope to serve you well."

The silence continued, but a few people nodded meekly.

"Now, I shall go speak with Mr. Mills, and then begin the conferences. The Hufflepuff office - that is to say, my office - is just down the hall, opposite the direction of the kitchen. There are a number of… portraits... surrounding it," he said, as if not particularly enthused about this, "so I dare say you will find it with ease. You will have your prefects by tomorrow, as well as your Quidditch captain. I understand that competing with the other houses is intimidating due to the difference in size, but that is no reason for you to not try and stand out amongst your peers. I daresay the number differences will make you visible enough. Use this to your advantage. But that is for tomorrow, and tonight you must rest. Friar," he called, and the portly ghost perked up with attention, "if you would, please show the students to their sleeping quarters. I will return shortly."

With that, he went to the door (which rolled obligingly out of the way) and stepped outside. Nathaniel glimpsed Adam get to his feet before the scene shut off from view again.

"Well, now," said the ghost - the "Friar" - to the silent room, looking a bit spooked himself. "Since... I didn't get the chance, during the feast, may I say it is jolly good to meet you all! I am sure that we will all become great friends in no time."

A few students forced smiles, while others glanced around unfamiliarly at each other. Nathaniel could almost see the divides between the old houses - the students must have instinctively grouped themselves by those they were familiar with. It was only him and the other first-years, he realized, that would have no trouble at all immediately seeing themselves as Hufflepuffs.

"Erm... well, in my day, and in years past, it was always the seventh-years who got the dorms furthest from the common room," said the Friar, showing them to the large hallway branching off from where they were standing. "As there's a bit less traffic going past, it's a bit quieter down there, and they'll need all the peace they can get for their coursework this year. The doors have a bit of space at the tops and bottoms, you see, to help everyone feel a bit more 'together', so it's important that everyone gets on the same page when it comes to quiet hours. Boys on the left, girls on the right…"

It was a bit odd following a being that was little more than a contortion of light, and as they walked Nathaniel still didn't understand how he was taking to everything so quickly. Perhaps, in time, the sheer absurdity of magic and everything would catch up with him and he would appreciate it for what it was, but for now it felt more like he was just exploring a new place, and everything still had the elements of what he was familiar with, just… presented in a different way.

When Adam Mills returned with Professor Donarko, he didn't seem angry anymore - embarrassed, moreso. After Professor Donarko made him apologize to the room (and then the room _accept_ his apology, and state that they understood his situation, which Nathaniel wasn't expecting) he left with the first batch of students for their conferences. Adam himself quickly asked where the sixth-year dorms were and headed off, eyes on the ground as he went.

"Wow, Professor Donarko did a number on him," remarked one of the upper-classmen.

"I'm not surprised," said another. "I wouldn't want to cross him if my life depended on it. Have you heard the kinds of detentions he runs?"

"Only rumors, but it doesn't sound pleasant. Poor Adam, hopefully everything works out in the end…"

"Excuse me," said a younger student, perhaps third-year. "What subject does Professor Donarko teach? I think I've got him this year."

"Oh, Dark Arts."

That caught Nathaniel's ear - "Sorry, Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he asked. He'd heard of that in _Hogwarts, a History._

"No, 'Defense' is Professor Smith," said the upper-classmen, eyes wandering to Nathaniel's white hair. "There hasn't been a 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' in years, that sounds like a ton of work, can you imagine?"

The other upper-classmen nodded in agreement.

"He's just Dark Arts. I'm Louis, by the way, ex-Gryffindor. You a first-year?"


	19. The Friar

The morning came, and Nathaniel was already awake. He'd gotten up at the sound of someone going past in the walkway beyond the swinging doors of the dormitory, the movements of whom could easily be heard through the gaps at the top and bottom. They weren't exactly what you'd call "real" doors - they reminded him of the sort of thing you'd see in the little online cartoon videos parodying America's "Old West", with cowboys swaggering out of them after drinking their brains out the accompanying saloon. They did _not_ do much for blocking sound, or keeping things feeling orderly and secured, as you ought to expect from sleeping quarters.

Suffice it to say, Nathaniel hadn't slept well. He was used to silence, stillness, and darkness, none of which were offered by the Hufflepuff dormitories. After waking up he'd felt around for his cellphone before realizing it was packed away in his trunk. Then he'd laid there, frustratedly wondering what time it was, and by the time he decided to get back to sleep a bird started chirping somewhere. Then another. Then frogs started croaking, and ocean waves began to crash, and by the time he realized what was going on, there was absolutely no way he was going to get back to sleep at all: peoples' alarms were going off.

The so-called "writer" that his father ordered for him appeared to be quite the popular item amongst witches and wizards, and they contained magically-enchanted "alarm" pages that made them flap open and produce a variety of sounds until they were slammed shut again. And as there were fifteen other kids in the room aside from himself (not to mention about a hundred more throughout the Hufflepuff dorms) the morning was going to be a complete cacophony of noise.

He laid there, red-eyed and irritable, as people yawned, stretched, and said "hello" to each other in the room and in the rooms neighboring theirs. While he'd been fortunate enough to claim a bunkbed without someone on top, there was absolutely no privacy outside of a single curtain that could be tugged around the edges of your bed, and since everybody was supposed to be getting up anyways, he wasn't even allowed to continue laying there and take things slowly. Ethic demanded he rise and greet the fellow members of his dorm cheerfully and pleasantly, and it was important that he follow it.

Taking a deep breath to banish his grogginess, Nathaniel dragged the curtain open, got up, nodded politely to anyone who looked in his direction, then set to work. He then made his bed, stretched, and did his thirty push-ups and crunches. When he finished and saw nobody else was doing the same, he had to reinforce his self-assured demeanor and complete the two other sets while inwardly burning in awkwardness. This was all the more motivation for him to find out where the school gyms were by the end of the day. He'd already excused himself from his morning swim at some point during the night, and it wouldn't do for him to make any more allowances.

Going to change his pajamas, he went to his assigned wardrobe and pulled the doors open. His trunk was stuffed there in the middle compartment where the coats usually hung, sitting on top of three drawers built into the bottom and below the narrow storage shelf set. It was modestly built, but it was workable, and he wasn't going to complain. Besides, he hadn't been able to bring a large variety of clothing with him anyways.

As he buttoned the undershirt of his uniform, he tried to shut out the conversations around him. He'd always been baffled at the ability of people to be this social so early in the morning - but he kept his face passive and returned any greetings and "good mornings" when they came his way, just to keep a positive impression. He partly thought about trying to start remembering peoples' names, but seeing as he was tired and there being plenty of time later that day, he didn't put much effort into it.

Once dressed, he went to the washroom to rinse his face, comb his hair, and straighten his collar. There were only two other boys there, one of whom was putting on the requisite black-and-yellow tie in front of the mirror, and by the time he went back to the dormitory to grab his book bag, just about everyone else had gone to breakfast.

He exhaled, frustration simmering inside him. This was _not_ how he wanted to start his first morning - he'd meant to be cheerful, enthusiastic, and leave to the Great Hall with the crowd of everyone his age, sharing stories and theorizing about their classes. Instead he was moving slowly, and had absolutely no desire to go sit in some stuffed cafeteria from the dark ages.

Massaging his eyes, he tried to tell himself it was okay - _Give yourself some time to adjust_ , his mother had said. The memory of her words was soothing to him, and he let himself go back to being in the car with her on their way to King's Cross, she trying to reassure him while trying to stay relaxed herself, with Hass there, sitting in the driver's seat (even though the car knew where to go), his presence meaning safety and security. _It'll be a big change of pace, Nathaniel,_ she'd said. _There will be a lot of new things, a lot of new things for you to get used to. So don't be too hard on yourself._

Of course, his father would have followed that with " _But don't make excuses to not put in effort_ " and " _Really try to *enjoy* being there, even if you have to trick yourself into it - people will notice if you're not!"_ \- if he'd been in the car with them.

As he shouldered his bag and left to the walkway, the dormitory doors knocked together behind him and caught the attention of someone in the common room:

"Hello there, young Hufflepuff!"

It was the fat, friendly ghost-man from the night before, who was in the midst of standing up from a chair by the fireplace.

"On the way to breakfast, by chance?"

Nathaniel nodded, waiting for him to comment on his lateness.

"Well, do you mind if I join you? I happen to be headed in that direction myself!"

Nathaniel let out a restrained exhale through his nose and put on a polite smile.

"Of course. You're... the Friar?"

"That's right, my son!" said the Friar cheerfully, half walking, half floating up the steps and joining him. As he came alongside, Nathaniel was pleasantly surprised by the cool air wafting from him.

"The Fat Friar they call me," the ghost chuckled heartily. "Have you seen the work done by our house-elves last night? Magnificent, isn't it?"

Nathaniel followed the trajectory of the Friar's arm and gave the room a look-over: compared to the dusty shade of brown that had been everywhere last night, there was a dramatic shift in color. The stone brickwork of the walls had been scrubbed clean to a sandy yellow; the black beams of the supporting archways, pillars, and ceiling had all been polished until gleaming; and all about the walls of the room were set warm pastoral paintings, with living floral decorations put in the corners, some of which actually seemed to be curling and swaying by themselves in the still air. It had a very rural feel to it, Nathaniel thought, and was relieved to think his father would now only give it an amused look-over before dismissing it, rather than being offended and calling up the school governors in outrage.

"It's hard work, taking care of so many students," the Friar went on, "and our employ of house-elves is still a bit short-staffed. It is fortunate they enjoy their work as much as they do!"

"Surely they're not the only ones who do custodial work?" he asked as they went into the hall.

"Oh, no, there's a few humans on the job as well, but it's generally not the most desirable occupation. Of course, there's nothing wrong with a spot of menial labor if you ask me! I used to find it very therapeutic back in my day... So, excited for your first day at Hogwarts?"

"Sure. It's going to be an unusual experience, I expect."

"But of course!" the Friar exclaimed, trying to spur some enthusiasm. "There's nothing like Hogwarts, I can tell you. But I will say, you might want to enlist the help of some older students when you're finding your way around - the castle has a bit of a personality to it, if you know what i mean!"

"...Er, no, sorry?"

"Why, surely you've heard? The castle's almost a living creature! The staircases like to change places every now and then, the walls will pretend they've got doors or shuffle their paintings and patternings around, sometimes the closets are there when you need them, sometimes they aren't!"

That actually did remind Nathaniel of something he'd read in _Hogwarts, A History,_ and he made a mental note to ask for help if he needed it.

"If you had the mind to get to know it better," the Friar continued, "I'd recommend going around in the morning. A wonderful time to explore! The rosy light of dawn, the softness of the air, the gentle passing of time with everyone snoozing in their beds. It's the best time of the day for it by far!"

"Does the castle stay more still?"

"Not in the least, my son, it's just that the morning is the best time of the day! We ghosts prefer the dawn and dusk, you see... although not many of us are morning people. I guess there aren't many _living_ people that like the mornings either, come to think of it."

If there were many more nights like this one, Nathaniel wasn't sure if he'd be one of them either. But he found himself enjoying the conversation with the Friar: he was genuinely friendly, and didn't seem the least bit perturbed about being dead.

"Say, is something the matter, young one?"

"Hmm?"

"You seem a bit quiet, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Oh. It's nothing. I'm just tired."

"Ah, still getting used to the new living situation, are you? I understand completely! Why, growing up, I shared a bed with both my brothers and my younger sister. Then when I came to Hogwarts, I was made to sleep all by myself, in a massive bed, in these cold, stony rooms. It took some getting used to, but sleep always catches up eventually! Perhaps tonight you'll sleep doubly-hard, eh?"

Nathaniel nodded, but right at that moment another ghost came through the wall ahead of them.

"Friar!" called the newcomer - they were lanky, with an overly-poofy beard and a set of armor that shifted and clanked as they moved. From their head projected the length of an arrow, which was minorly horrifying if you considered that it might not be able to be removed for the rest of their continued existence.

"Have you seen Sir Gommersworth, Friar?"

"Not at all, my dear knight! I've been in this area all night, helping the house-elves arrange things for Hufflepuff!"

"He didn't show up at our meeting time!" the knight barged on. "We've met at the same time, same location, for two centuries now, and suddenly he decides not to come!"

"Oh no?"

"No, and that's a bit rude, if you ask me! Usually, he's very punctual! Well, I'll search on, then, and I'll give him a good bash over the helm when I find him!"

"Best of luck on your search, my son! But try to be understanding, as always!" but the knight had already stomped off through another wall.

"Who was that?"

"Oh, one of the few hundred ghosts that haunt the castle with me. I know it might reflect poorly on me... but I'm sorry to say I've never learned his name. And I've been here quite a lot longer than two centuries, mind you."

"In the castle?"

"Yes, in dear old Hogwarts. I've been going around these same haunts for nearly a millennium!"

Nathaniel's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"A _thousand_ years?"

"Just the same, my son - although, I will say that Hogwarts has grown up quite a bit since my day."

"Doesn't it get _boring?_ "

The Friar laughed good-heartedly as they climbed the stairway into the Entry Hall.

"Oh no, not at all, that's one of the nice things about being dead - you can do the same thing over and over, and it never gets tiring! Although it also means you can't pick up on things quite as well, sad to say. Well, here we are… now, if you don't mind, I'll leave you to your breakfast. There's a particular window I like to visit, you see, that overlooks the lake, and it is a beautiful sight right at this time of the day. So adieu, young Hufflepuff! It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I am certain we shall see each other again before too long!"

Nathaniel nodded, and the Friar drifted up and vanished through a corner of the ceiling. Nathaniel stared at the spot where he'd left for a moment, shocked at the sudden mode of departure, before reminding himself that was just the sort of thing ghosts might do and heading into the Great Hall to join the other first-years for breakfast. He liked the Friar - he spoke of the nature of his being in a candid manner, which was always the mark of a collected person. If you were able to acknowledge the odd things about yourself, without letting them hold them back from being social, then that showed your strength of character. It was one of the things his father always told him, whenever people made comments about his family's prestige or his white hair, and he tried to keep it in mind (and it was especially useful now, since entering late drew the eyes of the people sitting at the tables, on top of his hair).

Feeling a bit better, he spotted a group from his house. He composed himself and went to join them, ready to make introductions. _Relax, and pay attention,_ said his father's voice. Relax and pay attention, he repeated to himself. This was something that he'd done a hundred times at his old schools, and as a first impression it didn't seem like children from magical families would be any harder to impress. All you had to do was be friendly, be calm, be collected, and people would like you. And Nathaniel was very practiced at doing those things, groggy or not.


	20. Kev

Ray woke up before the sun rose, but she'd been expecting that. She'd also had a hard time falling asleep last night, but she'd been expecting that, too, and it didn't dampen her spirits in the slightest - she was in magic school! She'd heard stories of witches (although they'd usually been the villains); had watched animated shows with them, and now here she was, in a school _packed full_ of them! And she _was one!_

Climbing out of bed, she fumbled her way through dressing by the dim light coming under the doorway from the stairwell torch. Somewhere, in her trunk, she knew, was her wand; were her potion ingredients and equipment and recently colorfied uniform; were her spellbooks and parchment rolls and ribbons; heck, she was even excited about the quills; she couldn't wait to get into them. It felt like christmas morning, or easter, but a thousand times better - it was the beginning of her new life, of a life she'd tried for so long not to think about, not to hope for, but it here it was, having come all the same! And now, all she had to do was wait a few hours till 9am, and everything would start happening.

So really, there was no way she could sleep another wink, and she knew it. There was also the fact that she'd been getting up before dawn her entire life for her chores, so it came natural to her. It _was_ a bit different being in a room with fourteen other girls instead of just Seb, but not in a bad way - just in a _new_ way. She hoped they would all get along. When they were doing a bit of unpacking last night it looked like two of the other girls had items that said they were from a Muggle background, and she hoped they could care of themselves. It _might_ be that there were more people like Ellen, who didn't seem to mind if they were from a wizarding family or not, but she didn't have high hopes for that after everything that happened on the train ride. At the very least, if they got made fun of, Ray would be there to defend them - but hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Once dressed, she eased her way out of the dormitory and pattered down the stone steps to the Gryffindor common room. The place was enormous, almost as big as the indoor gymnasium at her old school, but instead of dilapidated wooden flooring and broken basketball hoops it was cozy and fit with plushy, red-and-gold patterned furniture. It looked like a lounge of sorts; there was thin maroon carpeting, a bunch of study tables running alongside a series of windows in the left wall, circles of poofy armchairs here and there in the middle, a huge fireplace at the far end, and several bulletin boards stuck up next to the porthole. There was also, Ray noticed with amusement, a large upper-classman passed out on a bench, still in their full uniform.

Heading over, she prodded him until he groaned and squinted an eye up at her.

"Ah, bugger off ya little…"

"It's only 6:10," she said (double-checking a grandfather clock in the corner). "You hurry and you might get a couple hours in before classes."

The boy didn't respond, and she was just about to leave him to it when the stairwell doors opened again. It was another upper-classmen boy, who also looked to be an early-riser.

"What-ho!" he cried. "Socks and a little firsty. Whatchu doin'?"

"Trying to get him up to bed," said Ray.

"Ah, Socks sleeps where he wants, don't you, Socks?"

Socks (apparently) didn't respond.

"But what're _you_ doin' so early in the mornin'?"

"'S not that early," Ray said, catching his dialect.

The dormitory doors opened again, and two upper-year girls came out.

"Morning, Kev!" said one of them, a redhead.

"Look what we got here, Socks and a firsty!"

"What are you doing up so early?" the redhead asked her.

" _Not that early_ , she says!" said Kev.

"I was thinking of going for a run," said Ray.

"Well, hey, that's exactly what we're doing!" said the girl - Ray had thought something like that was up, seeing as everyone was dressed in exercise clothes.

The door opened again, and another boy (younger this time) came into the room.

"Hey, what's going on? I didn't know we were meeting here."

"We're not," said Kev, "just stopping to say hello to Socks and the firsty!"

He looked at her with interest - "What's a firsty doing up?"

At that moment, Socks groaned loudly, got to his feet, and slouched grumpily across the room. He pushed himself through the four upper-classmen and went up the dormitory stairwell, and even after the doors closed behind him she could still hear him stomping up every step.

"Good ol' Socks!" said Kev.

"Say, you want to come with us?" the redhead asked.

"Sure!"

"I'm Ashley, by the way."

"Sada," said the other girl.

"Ben."

"Kev'n."

Ray laughed, and introduced herself while following them to the porthole.

"- Nah, you're not Ray, you're _Firsty!_ " Kev declared.

As they entered the hallway outside, there was a soft "Ooh!" behind them.

" _Ooh!_ " Kev mimicked, while the others laughed. " _Ooh! Ooh!"_

As it turned out, they'd startled awake the obese woman in the portrait guarding the entry hole.

" _Ooh!"_

"What's funny?"

"She does that every morning," Ben told her.

"Think we should wait for Daniel?" asked Sada.

"Nah, she knows where ter go," said Kev. "She might ev'n get there before us! You ever play Quidditch, Firsty?"

As it turned out, Kev, Ashley, Sada, Ben, and Daniel were all players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ben was the youngest, a fourth-year, and played Seeker.

"Shame we lost Louis in that Hufflepuff business," he said.

This was met by a chorus of moans from the other three, who had forgotten.

"He was a damn good Chaser!" declared Kev. "But I'm sure there's more bangin' around here somewhere!"

They went through the castle talking and laughing, breaking into a jog on the long stretches, going down several flights of stairs, and taking sudden turns in hallways. It was an entirely different route than Ray'd taken the night before coming up from the Feast, and within minutes she was hopelessly lost.

"Hope ya don't mind, Firsty," Kev went on, "but seein' as you've never played Quidditch, chances aren't great for ya gettin' on the team. But you're welcome to try out, o' course!"

"I might!"

They made it to the ground floor and exited through a door called "East." The morning was cold and damp, but refreshing, and the sky was just at the early stages of dawn. They'd come out to a large, grassy patch bordering a vegetable field, around which looped a well-trodden track. Daniel, as it happened, _was_ already out there, and she waved to them and said "Good morning!" when she came up alongside. Ray introduced herself (though Kev re-named her "Firsty" immediately afterward), and Daniel said she was pleased to meet her, and welcomed her to Gryffindor.

As they did their laps, everyone broke into their preferred speeds: Ben was the fastest, followed closely by Sada, then Kev, Ashley, and Daniel, who, after catching up with them, slowed a lot and seemed to be taking things at more of a relaxed pace than for exercise. Ray ended up falling into a group with Kev and Ashley, who she thought were keeping pace with her deliberately so as to keep her company.

"Manchester United, eh?" Kev asked, noticing her shirt.

"You follow soccer?!"

"'Course I do, most popular sport in the world, innit? Though just by numbers, mind, Quidditch is way better."

"It is _not!_ " Ray admonished, even though she couldn't back that up with anything.

"Say, I was wonderin'... you a Muggle-girl?"

Ray slowed, blood draining from her face.

" _NO!_ "

Both Kev and Ashley whirled around.

"I didn't mean nothin' by it!" Kev said, startled. "Don't make a shite bit of diff'rence to me if you're Muggle or not!"

"Well I'm _not!_ "

"Lissen, don't get worked up now, I didn't mean nothing by it, honest!"

"He didn't, Ray, none of us care if you're Muggle-born or not," Ashley told her. "Daniel's raised by Muggles, and she's Head Girl; whole school loves her."

"Well I'm _not_ ," Ray repeated.

Kev and Ashley shared glances as they continued jogging backwards.

"Lissen, we'll drop it, alright?" he said, turning forward again. "I was just curious. No biggie. Sor'y I brought it up."

They ran a half-lap in silence before Ray cooled down and decided to change the subject.

"How's Quidditch play again, anyways?"

Grateful, Kev and Ashley jumped into an enthusiastic back-and-forth about how to play the game. They had excellent banter, and had obviously had more than a few arguments together in the past - as they talked over one another and corrected what each other said, Ray couldn't help but get amused, and she laughed whenever they got stuck on a point.

They ran for forty minutes in the pink light of dawn, during which time about twenty other people came out on the track. All the while, Ray listened to Kev and Ashley's commentary on the latest Quidditch World Cup, listening with interest at the kinds of players there were and what sort of injuries they had or statistics they ran. In the pauses in the conversation, she took in their surroundings: the vegetable rows bulging with lettuce and beets; the enormous greenhouses facing them numbered one through seven; the surrounding trees of the forest, each of their ragged tops dark against the brightening sky; and, on the loop back, Hogwarts itself.

The castle was just as picturesque as anything around them, and perhaps even moreso with all its towers, bridges, and walls lighting up one by one as they unveiled in the yellow light of the morning. The sharp shadows and distant fluttering banners amplified its depth, and Ray couldn't help but marvel at it - everything was so _big_ in the wizarding world, she thought.

Eventually, Kev called that it was time for breakfast, and the three of them ran back up the stairways and corridors, leaving Ben, Sada, and Daniel to their own devices. They kept to the walls to dodge what students were making their way to the Great Hall (one of the professors yelling "No running in the halls!" at one point), and, to Ray's disappointment, took an entirely different route all over again.

"I'm never going to get the layout of this place," she groaned, as she suddenly found themselves back in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"You'll get used to it," Ashley said encouragingly. "Did you see the showers on our way back?"

"Er…"

"They're not far."

" _Lion's Mane,_ " said Kev, and the Fat Lady's portrait swung open.

They clambered through the portrait hole and entered to common room, which felt a lot more open with the sunlight coming in through the windows.

"Tell you what," Ashley went on as they headed for the dorms, "after you get your stuff wait for me here, we can go together."

Ray did so. She greeted the members of her dormitory who were still getting out of bed (Ellen wasn't there), went with Ashley to the showers, bade farewell to her on the stairwell, stowed her clothes, then grabbed her pack and tried to make her it all the way down to breakfast by herself. She got lost once going down a staircase she thought she recognized (only to somehow end up on the floor she thought she'd just come from), but eventually came across a group of upper-year Ravenclaws and was able to follow them all the rest of the way.

* * *

Upon entering the Great Hall, she thought the ceiling had been removed and the place had been turned into an outdoor courtyard. She then remembered the enchantment, and gazed wondrously at it for a few moments before spotting Rachael.

"Morning, Ray!" she called as she came over.

"Hey! Thanks for drying me off yesterday."

Rachael laughed - "Oh _yeah,_ you got rescued by the squid! What was that _like?_ "

Ray told her, and the three of her friends who were sitting with her. ("I've never even touched the squid," said one of them.)

"I just know that it would've been a whole thing if I'd stayed wet the whole night," she continued. "I would've had to try and find the showers for sure, and I've almost gotten lost three times already. This place is a maze!"

They laughed.

"I did shower this morning, though," she added quickly.

"Well you're certainly welcome, Ray, but you should really be thanking Douglas - I never would've even noticed if not for him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he wrote me during the Sorting, and seeing as I was all the way back here I never would've even seen you."

"Oh -" she looked toward the Slytherin table.

"Over there," she said, pointing. "See Nort and Samson, by the wall?"

"Thanks!"

Ray doubled-back and headed toward them, but immediately noticed people shooting her glances. Halfway down, she slowed as she saw someone she recognized from the train.

"Oye, Chuck!"

He was sitting with his friend; a tall, brown-haired boy with moles on his face.

"What're you… oh, 's you. What'd you go and get yourself in the stupid house for?"

Ray blinked - "The what?"

"You let the Hat make you a _Gryffindor_. Thought you said you were gonna be a Slytherin, huh?"

"I mean, I was going to, but it chose too fast for me, didn't it? Besides, it's not like it matters..."

Chuck hesitated. "I... 'spose not…"

"Hey, Goyle, who's this Gryffindork?" asked his friend.

"Ray," she said, sticking out her chin and introducing herself. "What's yours?"

The boy considered her.

"Vinn."

Ray looked from Chuck to Vinn questioningly, wondering why they were being weird with her, and why people up and down the table kept looking at her. A few seats down, a lean boy with a heavy brow seemed to be whispering to his friend about her, and they snickered in a not-too-friendly way.

"What's the deal, everyone here hate Gryffindors or something?" she demanded, temper rising.

"You got a problem?" the boy piped up.

"Yeah, why you keep looking at me, huh? You got something to say?"

A few more heads turn her way, but she didn't care.

"What's this Gryffin-whore doing over here, anyway?" the boy called out.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?" she shrieked, forcing herself between Chuck and Vinn and slamming her hands on the table

"Yo, Ray, it's not worth it," Chuck muttered.

"You ask me, it's making fun of someone you don't _know_ that's the real _stupid_ thing!"

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but just then a hand fell on her shoulder. It was Douglas.

"This is my sister," he said.

Some of the faces underwent rapid changes, going from angry, to curious, to… impressed?

"What's she in Gryffindor for?" the boy called.

"She's in Gryffindor," he said, "because she can kick your ass, and she's not afraid to do it."

There was some laughter.

"But let's all make friends here, okay? That's what Slytherin's all about."

He clapped her on the shoulder, and left down the table to Nort and Samson.

"Right, you said 'e was your brother, didn't you?" asked Chuck, sounding a bit more friendly.

Ray was still hot in the face, but Douglas's words had made her check herself: she was in a new school. She had a chance at a fresh start. She couldn't go getting into fights anymore, or she'd get in trouble with the teachers all over again. She'd made improvements over the last year with Mrs. Canilly, and she knew had to watch herself or she'd have to start over again, and this time Mrs. Canilly wasn't there to help. So she let it drop - even though the boy _needed_ a good wallop.

"See you, Chuck, Vinn," she said dismissively, and headed off after Douglas.

He was sitting beside Nort on the bench, the both of them facing away from the table and watching Samson, who was standing and talking animatedly with a piece of toast in his hand. Some of its unusually turquoise jam was dangerously close to dripping off, she noticed, but he stopped talking mid-sentence when he saw her, face breaking into a grin.

"Ah, there's the little Gryffindor!"

Nort waved in welcome, but Douglas was studying her, expression unreadable.

"How you doing, hot-head?" he asked.

"Don't call me that."

"What were you doing back there, huh?"

She didn't respond.

There was a moment of tense silence.

"Ah, leave her alone, Doug," said Nort.

Douglas watched her for another moment, then sighed and beckoned her to come sit.

"You check out the field?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, taking that as a peace offering and sitting down between him and Nort.

"Make any friends?" he teased.

She ignored the question.

"Why were they calling Gryffindor the stupid house?"

A smirk tugged at Douglas's lips, and Ray felt a flare of anger.

"Oh, it's not the stupid house," Samson said. "It's just where stupid people _go._ "

Ray stood, ready to shout, but since she didn't know him it caught in her throat. Both he and Douglas roared with laughter.

"Not helping, Sam," said Nort.

"Ray," Douglas said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down, "it's not the stupid house. I'm serious. It's just got a bad rep 'cause it's been Slytherin's rival for years."

"For decades," said Nort.

"Forever," said Samson, still grinning.

"People go to Slytherin if they want to get good jobs," Douglas went on. "Work their way up the ladder, all that. People go to Ravenclaw if they're nerds and into books, like Rachael and her sister. People go to Gryffindor if they're sporty, like to party, and don't mind what work they get so long as it makes a living."

"So, just because they're not nuts about their careers, they're stupid?"

"Exactly."

"That's stupid."

"Exactly."

"Not too stupid, though," said Nort, wagging a finger. "Who doesn't want a good job, eh?"

"But I'm generalizing, of course," Douglas said. "Besides, look at the Head Girl - she's a Gryffindor, isn't she?"

"She is," said Samson.

"And you've got to have top marks if you're going to be Head Girl."

"If that were the case, Rachael should've have gotten it, eh?"

"Well, and a few other things," Douglas corrected. "Loads of extra-curricular activities, stuff like that."

Nort spoke up. "What are you doing over here anyway, Ray? You have some friends in Slytherin?"

"No," she said, feeling ever-so-slightly better. "I mean, there was a boy I met on the train…"

"Ooo, a _boy!_ " teased Samson. "A _boy_ on the _train…_ "

"Not like that," she smirked, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, you're too young for that stuff anyways," said Douglas.

"I'm almost twelve!"

"Yeah, in like a _year,_ " he said. Then, "Merlin's beard, twelve…"

"You're getting to be an old man, Douggy-poo," cooed Samson.

"Now you're really starting to be a peeve."

He cracked up. "Peeves is _brilliant!"_.

"Who's Peeves?"

"Someone you want to avoid like the devil," said Nort. "Because, well, that's pretty much what he is. Poltergeist."

"Oh, come now, Peeves isn't that bad!" cried Samson.

Douglas arched his eyebrows at him.

"He's not!"

"Sam, he's an absolute terror," said Nort. "Don't know _why_ they haven't booted him."

"He's part of the Hogwarts _experience!"_

"Peeves will steal your hat, knock your books out of your arms, and take the piss for whatever he can think of," Nort told her. "He'll chase you down the hallway, make you twenty minutes late to class, and land you in detention. You see him coming, you book it, got me?"

"It's sound advice," Douglas agreed.

"Well, okay. Isn't there any way to defend myself from him?"

"Not with any spells you're going to learn," Douglas said.

" _Why not?!"_

"I told you before, it'd be trouble. You get into a fight, next thing you know someone's in the hospital. Try not to learn any hexes or jinxes, will you? Steer clear, please, for my own sanity."

Ray crossed her arms haughtily, and he laughed.

"Oh, it's nice having you in school. Say, what's your schedule like?"

"I - don't know," she said, caught off-guard at his sudden affection.

"You don't know what classes you've got? You haven't been to your table yet?"

"No, I saw Rachael then came here," she said. "I wanted to say thanks for getting me dried yesterday."

"Oh, such a caring older-brother!" Samson swooned.

"Don't mention it," said Douglas, clapping her on the shoulder. "Couldn't have you drawing any more attention to yourself then you already do, could I?"

Ray sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of which, Gryffindors don't usually come to the Slytherin table, and vice-versa. You might be able to be an exception seeing as your my sister, but it's gonna make things weird for you if you keep it up, with both houses."

"Why? That's stupid!"

"That's the way it is. You want friends, you gotta play by the rules."

"Maybe I'll make my own friends."

"Ray."

She groaned and stood, readying to leave.

"Just promise me you'll keep it in mind, okay?"

"Fine."

"Also, as you go - and you really should go, because breakfast is gonna clear any minute - keep your ear out for that boy that you were yelling at. If he tries to apologize, make sure he does it properly."

"Properly?"

"Yep. Now go eat breakfast, and get your schedule!"

She gave an uncertain wave, feeling a bit confused (but that was hardly abnormal after talks with Douglas). Samson and Nort said "bye!", and sure enough, when she went past where Chuck and Vinn were sitting, the boy called out her name.

"Rayleigh Zuwaldt!"

He had stood up from his seat, staying wedged between the table and bench, his friends on either side watching him curiously.

"I wanted to say, I'm sorry!"

Suppressing a smirk, she put hands on hips and considered the boy.

"Sorry for what?"

There was a glint of acknowledgement in his eyes.

"For calling you names, and being rude."

"Are you gonna do it again?"

"No."

"Well, alright then. What's your name?"

"Jacobs Flint."

"Apology accepted, Jacobs Flint. Or, howbout Jake?"

"Jake works."

"Good, then," she said.

Jake sat and Ray walked off, knocking Chuck lightly on the shoulder in farewell. She made her way past the busy Ravenclaw table, a good number of whom were standing and comparing schedules, then past the mostly empty Hufflepuff table, which looked to be primarily first years, then to the noisy Gryffindor table, who were all eating and talking in their loudly-colored red and gold uniforms, same as her. Things were starting off good at Hogwarts, she felt.

Spotting someone by an empty spot, Ray sat down.

"How's it going?"

The boy nodded to her, head full of shaggy blond hair and his gray-blue eyes bagged from tiredness.

"What year are you?"

"Third," he said, still mid-chew on a croissant.

"I'm Ray."

"Riley."

"Do you know if there's first-year schedules?"

Wordlessly, the boy pulled one of the remaining pieces of paper from the center of the table and handed it to her. As she grasped it, text appeared on the page, outlining her schedule, complete with her name at the top. She had Herbology first, which was a relief as it she thought she'd be able to find her way there once she got to the "East" door.

"What's Gryffindor 1B?"

The boy wasn't listening, he'd put elbows on the table and resumed munching on his croissant. Leaving him to it, Ray heaped herself a bowl of oatmeal (which was lukewarm at this point) and grabbed a banana, stomach growling.

"Fifteen minutes till show-time, boys," somebody said.

Ray looked down the table, and just caught Potter watching her before going back to talking with his Longbottom friend.


	21. Professor Byron

From the sounds of things, there were two groups of first-year Hufflepuffs, each having a particular schedule. Nathaniel wasn't sure why they did this, seeing as Hufflepuff house was small enough already and dividing it further would only make scheduling everyone more difficult, but perhaps it was just a carry-over from the other houses. Even still, it seemed there were only thirty students per year per house, at least from what one of the seventh-year girls sitting in the cluster next to him and the other first-years had said when asked. That was small enough for a single classroom, at least by normal school standards - dropping it down to fifteen students per lecture would require an enormous amount of teaching staff, particularly when you considered Hogwarts had seemingly well over five hundred students.

"So, where's History of Magic?" a girl in his year asked, on the other side of the Hufflepuff table.

That made Nathaniel's ears perk up - his first class was History of Magic as well, and he didn't know where it was either.

"Room 27," said a pudgy boy, reading off his schedule.

"Where's that?"

"No idea."

 _Well, that was helpful_ , Nathaniel thought.

"Anyone know where it is?" the girl asked again.

Nobody seemed to. Nathaniel was just about to ask the one seventh-year girl again, when somebody else did it before him.

"Hmm? History of Magic? Third-floor, just take the stairwell outside the Great Hall and pay attention to the numbers over the doorway. Are you all taking it?"

"No," said the pudgy boy.

"They've split us in two groups," Nathaniel explained.

The seventh-year girl looked at him, eyes wandering to his white hair before going back to him.

"Ah, well that's standard. They do that for every year. I thought they might do things differently for us, since we've only half the students, but I suppose it's good to be consistent."

"They did it for your year, too?" the pudgy boy asked.

"Sure," she said. "But only for the core classes, which none of us have many left. You get to seventh-year and everything's much more personalized. Plus, there's only nine of us."

"You're all taking History of Magic?" another seventh-year girl asked. "You'll be glad, Professor Byron's excellent. The one they had before him was an absolute _bore_ \- over half the students would be asleep by the end of the period, guaranteed, no matter if it was goblin wars or vampire incursions."

As it turned out, the seventh-year girl was right: Professor Byron, the Head of Slytherin House, had an exuberant personality and a noticeable passion for his subject. The first lecture was only over the syllabus, which Nathaniel had been expecting, but every time Professor Byron introduced one of the topics they'd be covering that year, he would follow it with an intriguing aside comment as though there were an entire world of detail there waiting to be unpacked.

"The class will focus on magical history in Britain!" Professor Byron announced. "Settled around the Fifth Century, it marked the first time magical societies began to coalesce. As such, this period could be described as the _birth_ of our people!"

"...Medieval Europe, a momentary spot in the sun for wizarding kind; lots of warring between different kingdoms, and magic-users were finally given some respect! Just wait until you hear of some of dear-old Godric Gryffindor's feats..."

"...12th Century, and the wizarding economy began taking its first steps. We started to _pull away_ from the Muggle masses! Diagon Alley got to be a major hotspot, putting it down the path to where it is today…"

"...Oh, the Dark Wizard Ekrizdis, 15th Century, not a sociable fellow by any account, but his discoveries revolutionized Concealment magic. I daresay you'll hear quite a bit about him in your third year, or even in Charms…"

Everything was very new to Nathaniel, and the curiosity swelling in his chest was something he hadn't felt in quite some time. He was attentive throughout the entire lecture, and at times even forgot to take notes with his odd-to-manage quill and inkwell. It was refreshing, or revitalizing, in a way - he was brimming with questions about how wizarding history matched up with the history he knew, and was even thinking paying Professor Byron a visit if he had office hours. For once - and this was more of a hopeful thought than anything, as it was still too early to tell - he might not get bored.

"There will be no writers out in class!" Professor Byron barked as he got to the _conduct_ portion of the syllabus. "If I see you with one, it will be taken! You will lose house points! We will talk after class before you get it back, and if it happens three times you will get a detention!"

This was a rather abrupt turn in an otherwise enjoyable presentation, but after making certain everyone understood, he returned to his normal candor and the tension eased. Nathaniel, however, had appreciated that as well - it played right into his forming opinion of Professor Byron, and he was glad the man seemed passionate about his subject. So what if he had a tough policy against a particular magical object? It was no different from the teachers of normal schools, who had the same things for cellphones or food. Besides, having a professor that enjoyed their subject was worth quite a few strict regulations, in Nathaniel's opinion. It was already difficult to pay attention in school, and if the teacher lectured in monotone - well, you might as well not even be there.

"There will be a short quiz next class!" Professor Byron declared as the hour struck, freezing everyone halfway out of their seats. "I am much interested to see what you've learned prior to Hogwarts, so this will be formatted as more of a survey. Not to worry, though, chaps - it's attendance credit only, so no wrong answers!"

This was met with many sighs of relief, and the noise in the classroom rose as people resumend movement and packed away their notes.

Yes, it seemed as though there was little to dislike about Professor Byron. This was fortunate, as it appeared Nathaniel would be having him for two subjects that year, the other being "An Introduction to Wizardry". Nathaniel pulled out his schedule for the day and gave it a look-over.

NATHANIEL ZOLDIK

 _Hufflepuff 1A, Toad_

 _9:00, HISTORY OF MAGIC (HoM101), Professor Byron, Room 27_

 _10:00, AN INTRODUCTION TO WIZARDRY (WIZ101), Professor Byron, Room 27_

 _11:00, PRINCIPLES OF TRANSFIGURATION (T111), Professor Cogito, RT_

 _12:00, Lunch_

 _1:00, HERBOLOGY (HB101), Master Longbottom, Greenhouse One_

 _2:00, HERBOLOGY (HB101), Master Longbottom, Greenhouse One_

 _3:00, PHYSICAL FITNESS (F100), Professor Vola, Main Courtyard_

"Oh, you're 1A too?" a boy said next to him.

Nathaniel looked up.

"Sorry, I just… happened to see," the boy said, and pulled out his own schedule for Nathaniel to look. He recognized the boy from the House Table that morning - he'd been sitting in a huddle with his wiry-haired friend on the far end of the first-year cluster, and sure enough, the wiry-haired friend was there at that very moment, sitting on his other side.

"Yes, I think we all are…" Nathaniel began. "They split the years in half, and seem to be pairing us with, erm, the Ravenclaw students."

This was only a guess, but it seemed reasonable. At least fifty percent of the room was dressed in bronze-and-blue ties and stockings, which made the numbering a lot more sensical. He'd been wondering how the houses were to interact - if they were kept completely isolated from one another, no doubt wars would break out.

"Oh, yeah, that's true," the boy laughed. "What've you got next? I'm Chase, by the way."

"Good to meet you, Chase, I'm Nathaniel Zoldik. I've got ' _An Introduction to Wizardry'."_

At that, the boy's friend leaned over.

"You Muggle-born?"

Nathaniel thought the boy's tone was a bit abrasive, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Yes, if I understand correctly. My mother and father are both non-magical."

Chase got excited by this.

"Have you played _Roche Limit?_ "

"I've watched gameplay…"

Chase hastily pulled a rubber-packaged game system out of his bag.

"Is that the _Venture?_ " he recognized the device's make from internet forums. It was an older model, by about twenty years, but was still one of the most popular as it had an enormous line of quality games associated with it.

Both Chase and his friend were looking at him in interest now.

"You got one? What kind of games do you have?"

"No, I don't, and what's that rubber stuff? And how are you able to use electronic devices, I thought magic interfered?"

"Yeah," stated Chase's friend unhelpfully.

"That's what the rubber-packaging is for, although it's not rubber -" Chase started -

"- Well, my rubbers are about that size," said his friend.

Chase looked at him a moment, then cracked up.

"- Oh my god, shut _up._ "

Nathaniel gave a begrudging smile at the joke.

"What, it's true," said the friend.

"Do you know where I could get that, er, packaging?" Nathaniel asked, thinking it would be nice to have his cellphone back.

" _One World_ ," Chase said immediately. "Although it's special-order. I can tell you about it later, we've got to run - what's your next class?"

"Intro to Wizardry," Nathaniel said again.

Chase laughed - "Oh yeah!"

"C'mon, pay attention, jeez," scolded his friend, bopping him on the shoulder as they stood.

"What was your name, by the way?" Nathaniel asked.

"Oh -" the boy answered coolly. "Uh, Shrek."

Chase cracked up again and shoved him.

"It's Edgar," Chase told him.

"Good to meet you, Edgar."

Edgar just nodded and shouldered his bag, then watched as Chase did the same.

"Okay! Well, see you later… Nathaniel!"

"Bye."

Chase and Edgar left along with everyone else in the room - almost everyone else, that was. There were still two students sitting down aside from him, both girls, one from his house and another from Ravenclaw. Professor Byron was just finishing arranging things on his desk, and noticed them as he went to leave the room.

"Here for Wizardry 101?"

"Yes, sir," said the Ravenclaw girl.

"Well there's a small break between classes, we'll resume at ten-after."

He then left in a hurry.

Nathaniel and the two girls looked at each other across the room. They couldn't have been further apart - he was sitting near the front row, by the doorway; the girl from his house was in the far back of the room leaned against the wall; and the Ravenclaw girl was clear on the opposite side, by the window, already with a clean sheet of parchment out.

"I'm Nathaniel," he said, calling out over the empty desks.

"Maria," said the Hufflepuff.

"Heather," said the Ravenclaw.

They said nothing more, and waited the twenty minutes in silence, each of them doing their own things. Nathaniel thought about asking them if they wanted to exchange contact information, seeing as they were all new to magic, but he'd left his writer in his trunk and didn't know how to work it just yet. Instead, he busied himself by starting the chapter on _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ , which was the class he had coming up after this one. "Wizardry 101" didn't seem to have a text associated with it, unless it was _The Standard Book of Spells_ or _Magical Theory,_ but those both seemed concerned with the actual practicing and performing of magic rather than "what it's like living a magical life," which Nathaniel thought the class might be about. Besides, he'd left those in his trunk too.

Over the course of the break people came in one-by-one, not all of them from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, and not all of them (seemingly) first-year. By the time Professor Byron huffed his way back in the room (and closed the door behind him, Nathaniel noticed), there were only fifteen people present, and outside of two girls in Gryffindor nobody seemed particularly happy to be there. Indeed, the ones who Nathaniel thought might have been second-years only came in at the last second and sat glowering in the farthest corner of the room, arms crossed and backs slouched.

"Bridget, Taylor, back again, I see," Professor Byron commented, a sternness to his voice. What had happened? Had the two boys failed out their previous year?

"And the ones from my first period," Professor Byron went on, back to his normal tone, eyes going from the two girls to Nathaniel. "Well, what say we all come down to the front row? This room is far too big for all of us to be as spread out as we are!"

There was some grunting and shifting as everyone took a minute to gather in the front of the classroom.

"Well now," he began, coming around the front of his desk and leaning back on it so they had a full view of each other. "For those who don't know, Wizardry 101 is a class specifically designed for those coming from Muggle backgrounds. So, if nobody has done so yet, allow me to be the first to say, welcome to the world of magic. Most of you, anyways -" (his eyes went to Bridget and Taylor, but his voice remained casual). "How is everyone taking it?"

There was a moment of hesitation where nobody spoke, until one of the Gryffindor girls spoke up.

"It's been wonderful," she said, then broke into giggles with her friend.

This seemed to break the mood in the room, and quite a few others smiled and nodded as well.

"Wonderful, you say, wonderful! Why, I'm glad you think so! You weren't frightened, at all?"

"A bit, maybe, but she was very nice."

"Ah yes, it was Professor McDonnell this year, wasn't it?"

There was a few affirmations and a lot of nodding.

"A fine professor, a fine professor. Have any of you had Potions yet?"

Four people raised their hands; one the pudgy boy from the table that morning, another Hufflepuff girl, and two Gryffindor boys.

"Indeed, indeed!" he exclaimed, looking around and taking them all in. "What was your name, dear?"

"Kate," said the Gryffindor girl. "Kate French."

"Miss _French_ , you say?"

She and her friend giggled again.

"Well, it is excellent to meet you. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Professor Byron, and i hope we'll all have a productive term together. Shall we all go around and say our names, and the cities we're from?"

They went around, the two surly second-year boys (Bridget from Ravenclaw, Taylor from Slytherin) going last. When they finished, someone raised their hand.

"Professor, I was wondering, what's this class about?"

"Ah, that's a good question, and one i was just planning to address. This class -" he began, going back around to his desk and pulling some cards out from his bag - "is about acclimation. It's about catching you all up on the ends-and-outs of wizarding society, and getting you up to speed after all the years you've been apart. Now, let's pass these around, shall we?"

Professor Byron handed out the cards one by one, and as they circulated people got curious expressions on their faces. One boy, from Ravenclaw, made an audible "Oh" at one point.

When they got to Nathaniel, he found them to be surprisingly underwhelming: each card featured a picture of people doing (apparently) ordinary things. One had a picture of a woman in her work attire, at an office, pouring coffee, with a male coworker watching her from behind. One had a picture of a man on a bench, talking and laughing on his phone, while his daughter played with a toy truck on the pathway where people were walking. One featured two parked cars on the side of a road, one with its bumper busted and the other with its hood wrinkled, while the two drivers shouted and pointed at each other, each of them on their phones, presumably getting ahold of insurance companies.

"Keep them passing, keep them passing," Professor Byron instructed, until everyone had seen each card once.

"Now, you've all seen things like these before?"

There was a general murmur of affirmation, and one of the Gryffindor boys raised his hand.

"Sir, aren't photos… magical photos, that is, supposed to move?"

"Ah, right you are! And indeed these could easily be made that way, but they were taken by Muggle photographers and it was thought they should retain their capturer's intent. Now, does someone want to volunteer to share something they noticed about the photos?"

"They're all of ordinary things," said a girl.

"Right you are! Or mostly right, I should say - have a point to Slytherin in any case. Incidentally, my dear - Miss Havermire, I believe it was? - you and Taylor back there ought to get to know one another. I trust you will pass her some tips, Taylor, she being a first-year Muggleborn from our house?"

"Sure."

There was much looking back and forth between the girl and Taylor, but nothing more was said.

"Ordinary situations," Professor Byron repeated. "Things you might see every day, and I'm sure many of you have. What we see here - what the cards show - are things commonplace in the _Muggle_ world. People at work, people commuting, people eating food from _fast-food_ restaurants," he said, as though the term was unfamiliar to him, "all things that should be normal to you after eleven, twelve, perhaps thirteen years of life -"

"Still twelve," said Bridget, and a few people laughed.

"Twelve, then. Now, the first step toward learning a new way of life, a new _culture_ , so-to-say, is to examine the one from which you've come from! But for now I'll take the cards back - everyone hold them up in the air, please -"

They did so, and with a flick of his wand they slipped from peoples' fingers, soared through the air, and arranged themselves in a neat stack on his hand. Judging by the gaping mouths, many people were still new to magic.

"We shall see more of these soon enough," he said, placing them on the desk. "For now, let us just keep that thought in mind, the thought of self-study, and go over the syllabus for year, as is customary for the first day of classes. You may take notes, if you wish."

People went to dig supplies out of their bags. As they did so, Professor Byron flicked his wand at the blackboard and a piece of chalk popped up, ready to transcribe his words, and when he turned back to look at them an idea seemed to come to him.

"Oh, this is actually an excellent opportunity," he said. "Let's have just parchment and quills, please - no pens, no pencils, no paper."

A few people grunted as they went back into their bags to exchange materials, but Nathaniel and a few others, who already had quill and parchment out, remained still as Professor Byron began telling them the course objectives.

Nathaniel's excitement had waned, but in its place had arisen an intense focus. Unlike History, where he'd followed the lesson with a relaxed interest, this class would give him immediately useful information - exactly the sort his father had told him to pick up as quickly as he could.

 _Once you learn how a person thinks, it becomes a lot easier to work with them,_ his father had said. _If you're in a new spot - like you will be at Hogwarts - learn how people think as fast as you can, and use that information to climb your way to the top of the ladder. You're new to the wizarding world, *we're* new to the wizarding world, so this is going to be a big test for you. You're quiet, Nathaniel, which has served you well in the past, but now you're going to have to make friends, and so you must try to be more vocal. People won't recognize "Zoldik" when they hear it. You'll have to build your own status, so you must invest yourself. In order to become a big player, you'll need to learn to play their game._

And if this class taught you how to think like a wizard, it was just what he needed. The only downside was that it alternated with one of his other classes - _Writing_ and _Magical Literature -_ and as such took it took turns with it on his schedule throughout the week. Plus, on top of that, every other day had a different set of classes, with six taught on "Toad" days and other six on "Frog" days, which Professor Byron had gone over during History. That meant that this week - because it was a Tuesday - Nathaniel would only have two Toad days and two Frog days, so the next time he had a _Wizardry_ class would be Monday, the Toad-after-Toad day. Suffice it to say, he would still need to work on it a lot on his own time.

"Last thing, chaps," Professor Byron announced as they approached the end of period. "As we won't be seeing each other for almost a week, there is a small homework assignment for you - don't worry, I said small, didn't I? Before you leave, come to the front desk and pick up one of the cards we looked at earlier! I want each of you to have one. For next class, list the positive and negative behaviors shown in your chosen card. Try to aim for five of each, and we'll have a discussion over it. And _remember_ , as I said, participation is an absolute requirement for this course - so everyone will need to speak. Yes, my dear?"

The Ravenclaw girl from earlier - Heather, he remembered - had raised her hand.

"Professor, aren't 'positive' and 'negative'... opinions?"

"Ah-ha, right you are, young Ravenclaw! Take two points for critical thinking! There are no wrong answers! Provided, of course, you are able to support your ideas. Most of the work in this course will be graded based on effort and comprehension, rather than a complete memorization of all the little details - so give your card a good thought, and come prepared to our next meeting. That will be all!"

One by one, they each went up to the desk and took a card (Nathaniel ended up the one with the father and daughter) and filed out of the room. He took his time stowing it away, thinking about hanging back and introducing himself to Heather, but she seemed focused on getting to her next class so he decided to wait for another time. After all, he had to get to his next class too, and he had very little idea of where it was.

As they entered the hallway, some voices caught his ear that immediately told him someone was being bullied. Sure enough, the Slytherin girl from their class - Patty Havermire - was stopped from going down the hallway by two other Slytherins, one of whom Nathaniel recognized from the train. Despite Professor Byron's instruction, Taylor seemed to have abandoned her.

Steeling himself, Nathaniel called out - "Hey!"

The two boys looked up - _what were their names, what were their names?_ he thought desperately. If he could remember their names, there was a chance he could derail their thinking and try to diffuse the situation.

"Oye, look who it is, Vinn, the Muggle-boy from the train," said the larger boy, eyeing him and taking a few paces to the left with clear hostile intentions.

"Let's not fight."

"Naw, let's," said the boy. "You got lucky back'n the train, now I need some payback."

"Ha, you get 'im, Goyle," cheered Vinn.

So it was Goyle.

Seeing an opportunity, Patty Havermire scooped her fallen book off the ground and started to run, but Vinn knocked it out of her hands again.

"Leave her alone!" shouted a girl - Heather - who had come up alongside Nathaniel. "What's she done to you, huh?"

"Ooo, leave her alone!" Vinn mocked, kicking Patty's book across the floor right as she layed hands on it. Vinn was tall, lanky, covered in moles, and had a rather evil sneer.

"So we got a _pair_ of Mudbloods who thinks they can take us on," said Goyle. "What is she, Muggle-boy, your sister? Girlfriend? Or is them's the same for you lot?"

He reached back and pulled his wand out of his back pocket, and instinctively Nathaniel drew and fired his own spell -

" _Puncto!"_

There was a burst from the end of his wand like a popped balloon. Goyle's hand jerked as though it had been smashed by an unseen fist, and his wand dropped. The next moment, the fight was on: Vinn brought out his own wand and shot the jelly-legs jinx at him, but his pronunciation was off and it only made Nathaniel stumble to the side.

Using this to his advantage, he found a clear line-of-sight past Patty Havermire and shot _Puncto_ again, this time hitting Vinn's shoulder, but it wasn't enough to disarm him. Goyle, having recovered his wand, shot the same stinging hex Nathaniel had experienced on the train, which he was able to deflect with a swiping movement.

"Stop! Stop!" Professor Byron barked, suddenly coming into the hall. "Dueling? Right outside my classroom? This is absolutely unbecoming behavior! Ten points from each of you, Slytherin _and_ Hufflepuff!"

"'e attacked me, sir," said Goyle.

Professor Byron looked at him sharply.

"I'm sorry, Professor, it was instinct - he drew his wand on me."

"No I didn't!"

"He did," said Heather.

"It's true!" cried Patty, who had finally managed to grab her book of the ground and was clutching it protectively to her chest. Goyle scowled.

"So, let's see," said Professor Byron. "You two - Goyle and Crabbe, if I'm not mistaken - were after Miss Havermire here, and thought to go after these Muggle-borns as well? Were you waiting outside my classroom, as I explicitly told everyone NOT to do, just last night?"

"No, sir, we was just heading down the hallway, she bumped into us without sayin' sorry, sir -"

"That's enough. I think I've been Head of Slytherin long enough to know an excuse when I hear it. Stow your wands and get going, and don't let me catch you out with them again or it will be a detention."

"He hexed me too, sir," said Vinn.

"I will deal with it. Get going, Crabbe."

Scowling, the two boys set off, determinantly not looking at Nathaniel.

"You'd better move on too, Miss Cole and Havermire. I'd like a word with Mr. Zoldik here."

They left, Heather glancing back once and Patty saying a hurried "Thanks!" before heading off herself. Taking a breath, Professor Byron turned to him, briefcase at his side, and studied him from behind his puffy eyebrows and mustache.

"So. Mr. Zoldik, you are new to magic, and as such I should tell you that duelling is _extremely_ dangerous. You could have done serious injury to not only those boys, but Miss Havermire, Miss Cole, _and_ yourself. Not to mention, it's absolutely banned in school, and is considered a criminal offense once you're of age. You said you... acted on instinct, was it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how did it become instinct, I wonder?"

"I've had lessons."

"Lessons, you say? And…" there was a pause - "what hex did you perform?"

" _Puncto_ , sir," he stated, knowing it best to be honest. "And a Lesser Deflection Ward. But please know I was only attempting to disarm him. I didn't not want to fight."

"You managed a Deflection ward, successfully? That's a third-year defensive spell..."

For a moment, Nathaniel thought he looked impressed.

"But if you've had lessons, this could be more dangerous still. It is important that you not immediately resort to violence. I shall be speaking to your head of house…" he trailed off, as if suddenly remembering something. "You've got Donte," he said. "Well... there's nothing to be done. I'm sorry, but you must learn, and it is your head of house's responsibility to manage it. Try to have better control over yourself, Mr. Zoldik."

"Yes, sir. I will, sir."

"Very well. Oh - and, since you demonstrated a good deal of honesty, take five points to Hufflepuff."

Nathaniel looked at him in surprise.

"See you on Thursday, then. And no magic in the hallways."

"Yes, sir, thank you sir. Oh, Professor - would you mind telling me the way to Ravenclaw Tower?"

Professor Byron looked at him with a bemused expression. "Transfiguration, is it? Fourth floor, take the bridge. Ask a painting if you get lost. That way," he pointed.

"Do you think I'll be late?"

"Not if you hurry."

Nathaniel thanked him and took off, thinking he only had three minutes to get somewhere that was probably twelve minutes away.

* * *

Hogwarts castle was massive, and a complete nightmare to find your way around - Nathaniel had taken the Friar's suggestion that morning and asked an older student for a pointer when he and the other first-years were finding their way to History, despite the seventh-year girl's directions that it was only on the third floor and they'd just have to follow the door numbers. He was glad for it, too - somehow, on their way up, they'd managed to see both the greenhouses and the sports stadium through windows, each of which he knew to be on complete opposite sides of the castle.

It didn't make sense to him how easy it was to get lost, outside of the Friar's explanation of the place being a "living being", which he'd just taken at the time as clever wording. It was maddening to think about how a place was supposed to function if its architecture kept shifting all the time. When he'd tried to puzzle it out and kept meeting fallacies, he started to get a headache and went along with one of Mr. Graves's rare words of non-duelling related advice: _Just don't think about it. Otherwise you'd go mad, Muggle like you._

Eight minutes later, after finding the tower and climbing one more stairwell than he thought he'd had too, he poked his head up on a floor and heard a teacher taking roll.

"Transfiguration?" she asked sternly, upon noticing him.

He nodded.

"Take a seat," she said. "I'm practically finished. You may tell me your name once I'm done and I'll check you off. Winters, Brauk?"

"Here," said a boy.

Almost tempted to smile, Nathaniel took a seat by to the wall and got out his notebook, quill, and inkwell.

"Zoldik, Nathaniel?"

He raised his hand, and the teacher pursed her lips.

"Very well. Welcome to Transfiguration, everyone. My name is Professor Nida Cogito, and as you can see, this class is split between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. I expect everyone to behave themselves. As this is the first day, late arrivals -"

At that moment, another student came up the stairwell, huffing, and hastily took their seat after a stem look.

"...will not be penalized," she continued, "but _only_ for this day. Following this, five points will be deducted for each tardy. If it happens multiple times, you will receive a detention. It is of the utmost importance that you arrive to class on-time and ready to learn. Transfiguration is a dangerous subject, and those of you who lack the required discipline or do not respect the work will face punishment, and in the worst case, removal from the course. Now, then, what was your name?" she asked the late arrival.

As she continued into the course expectations, two more students arrived, who quickly followed what Nathaniel and the other boy had done and took their seats. Professor Cogito then went into the dangers of Transfiguration, which indicated to Nathaniel that this might be a class they'd actually be practicing magic in, before delving into the syllabus like Professor Byron had.

Practical lessons or no, it sounded like there would be a lot of note-taking in this class, and he was still very new to quills. He also found that the Gryffindors were a bit more rowdy than the Ravenclaws had been - there was more than one occasion where Professor Cogito paused in her lecture and asked the offending students, sternly, if there was a question, which Nathaniel knew to be teacher-code for "stop interrupting". She also seemed to have picked up peoples' names rather quickly, and used this to her advantage to promote self-awareness in the troublemakers, like Nathaniel had attempted earlier with Goyle and Crabbe.

He was, all things considered, impressed - after the Feast last night and seeing the aged aesthetic of the castle (not to mention the scruffiness of the Hufflepuff dormitory), he hadn't formed particularly favorable impressions for the quality of education. But so far, the two professors he'd had were excellent at managing people, and seemed very much informed with their subjects - so who was to say? Maybe Hogwarts deserved all the claims his father's visitors had made about it.

"Now, before the end of class, we have time for a short practice - you will find on your desks a small pebble."

With a flick of her wand, a pebble appeared in the center of everyone's desk, and there were a few clatters where people accidentally knocked theirs to the floor and went to pick them up again.

"By the bell, whosoever manages to change their pebble's color shall award their house fifteen points -"

There was a round of gasps, and people anxiously began pulling out their wands.

"- the incantation is _Colovaria._ You must also envision of the color of your choice; it will not affect the difficulty. Good luck."

They set to work, but the most notable thing that happened outside of people accidentally knocking their pebbles to the floor again was somebody's wand tip producing a small flash of red light. It was a frustratingly difficult spell, but that small amount of progress left everyone eager to have another go the next time they got together.

At the end of the period, Nathaniel went with the small crowd of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs back across the bridge for lunch, and joined in with them talking tactics, strategy, and what each thought they might have done correctly in their attempts to perform _Colovaria_. There was much questioning of the student who'd created the red flash, whose name was "Ellen Weasley", which he committed to memory. He did his best to learn other students' names as well - many of the Gryffindors seemed to know each other, and the fact inspired him to try and create the same sort of camaraderie in Hufflepuff. Even attempting that sort of thing would very likely place him in a well-known position within the house social structure, and was just the sort of thing his father would suggest. With that thought in mind, he felt a small surge of pride for having thought of it and immediately moved it up in his list of priorities.

He made sure he stayed with the conversation all the way to the Great Hall (even if he was a bit clumsy about it), which turned at one point to the discussion of the first chapter in _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_. It appeared that even those from a wizarding background still had a lot to learn about magic, so he wasn't nearly as far behind as he'd been dreading, and he even managed to demonstrate how you could ask paintings for directions when they came to a branch in the hallway. Chase and Edgar appeared by his side at one point (having been in Transfiguration as well) and attempted to pull him into a conversation about videogames, but he politely told them he'd prefer to keep going with the larger discussion. (He invited them to join in too, of course, but they weren't particularly keen on it).

As they got to lunch, he was feeling rather pleased with himself - he'd already made excellent strides for his first day, and was doing just the sort of thing his father expected him to. Sure, his voice might already be a little hoarse, and if he was really honest with himself he was wishing he could disappear behind a cellphone or a laptop for a few minutes, but those things were to be expected when trying something new. Like his mother said, it was okay for him to give himself a bit of space. You had to start somewhere.


	22. Wendy

Alice hefted her satchel off her shoulder and sat it on the edge of her cubby, then extracted her thermos and pushed it the rest of the way in. She then left through the ready-room doors and entered the Great Hall, took a left, and stomped up the stairs to the Head Table. Down on the floor, the students were already busy at their tables - she saw the biggest gap around the Hufflepuff, which was understandable. Not only did it have a small head count, but many of them were away right then eating lunches with their old housemates.

Just before she sat down, she noticed Donte sitting there next to the Headmaster's empty throne, some very understandable bags under his eyes. He had elbows on the table and was watching the students, chin and goatee smooshed against his hands, not even touching the food.

She could almost see the full weight of his responsibilities weighing down on him, as though one of the Headmaster's imaginary demon-creatures was sitting there in his back: Deputy Headmaster, professor of one of Hogwarts's most dangerous subjects, not the most suited to working with children personally-wise (he was there much moreso for research than she was), and on top of it all, suddenly made Hufflepuff's Head of House.

She knew he preferred his meals in solitude, but it didn't seem right to just not check on him. Committing, she went over.

"Oh, hello, Alice," he said, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Morning, Donte - I thought you might be interested in some Pick-Me-Up."

He studied the thermos in her hands.

"...What's in it?"

"Something of my own development. It's part invigoration draught, part 'Good Morning', and a tiny squirt of a Muggle ingredient."

"Muggle ingredient?"

"Nothing to be worried about! They call it 'ethanol', just helps smooth out the effects. It's quite popular in Ireland and France."

He thought for a moment, then raised his eyebrows in a shrugging sort-of-way and held out a goblet. She poured him a half cup-full with a smile, knowing it would make his day - it was as good as a nap, which he definitely looked like he could use.

"So, how are things with the Hufflepuffs?"

He surveyed the black-and-yellow uniforms scattered around the house tables.

"We shall see… It'll take some time for them to get comfortable with one another, so I am _trying_ to be patient. Hopefully they will make their way back to their table of their own accord."

"Yes, i think they'll have to - the tables have shrunk a bit, haven't they?"

"They have indeed," he said, and took a sip of her potion. He looked down at it with sudden interest.

"I must say, Alice, this is quite the draught."

She grinned.

"Thanks! It took me a while to come up with it. I'm still improving on it, of course, but I've got it to a working point, and I'll probably be living off of it the next few months..."

"Mmm," he said, voice muffled as he went for another sip, which was as good of a complement as any.

Suddenly, she spotted Wendy huffing her way toward them along the Slytherin wall.

"Well, I'll leave you to your lunch," she said. Donte nodded, and raised two fingers off his goblet as if I'm a farewell wave.

"What a morning!" Wendy cried when they met at their places. Plopping down in her seat, Wendy pulled the bowl of mashed potatoes toward her and scooped a pile onto her plate.

"Had a busy one, have you?" she asked, taking her seat as well. She hoisted the sausage tray over and dished some out with a fork, then grabbed a handful of the fat potato chips from the serving bowl.

"Oh yes! I've got double third-years first thing, Gryffindors and Slytherins, and let me tell you there's more than a few of them with bad relations. I'm just glad they're early in the morning - hopefully they'll be too sleepy to scrap with one another!"

Wendy poured gravy on her mashed potatoes and spooned some into her mouth, then swallowed and continued her thought.

"The third-years don't take my Creatures class seriously, I think."

"Oh?"

"Yes, they all think they're ready to move up to Hagrid's and wrestle Bicorn calves and nurse dragon hatchlings!" (Alice popped a potato chip in her mouth, which was a bad idea, as it was much too crunchy and forced her to chew intermittently so she could hear). "- Can you imagine? Mixing thirteen year olds with that sort! It'd be asking for a disaster! I've started them with something I think they'll find interesting, or I hope so, at least, we're doing Bowtruckles, which they _know_ are important creatures, so I hope they'll stay invested -"

Wendy kept on about how difficult it was to keep the attention of the third-years, and Alice humored her with occasional "Oh really?"s and "No!"s, but really was only half paying attention herself. The truth was, she didn't have much interest in magical creatures, and would have preferred to spend the lunch hour like Donte, using the time to figure out how she was going to work her schedule. Her classes took up almost eleven hours, not including breakfast and dinner, and she then she _still_ had to fit in time for grading, her alchemy research, preparing the next day's lectures, and if there was any time left over, eating and sleeping.

"What about you, then?" Wendy asked, right as Alice took a gulp of much-needed Pick-Me-Up.

She swallowed.

"Um, I've got my Alchemy class first thing, that's at 8am -"

"Right in the middle of breakfast!"

"Yes, but it's the only time available, and the students are willing since they've worked so hard to get there -"

"That's right, you said they needed an Outstanding O.W.L. in Potions, didn't you?"

"Yes, Transfiguration, too, and either have-taken or currently-be-enrolled-in Magical Theory and Ancient Runes."

Wendy gaped at her. "I don't know how people can take such a class!"

Alice shrugged. "Just have to have the interest, I suppose. It really is fascinating, once you get into it!"

"Bunch of Ravenclaws, I'm guessing?"

She laughed. "Yes, and a few Slytherins, one of whom turned into a Hufflepuff."

"So what, you didn't eat breakfast at all then?"

"No I did, I did, I grabbed a quick bite at 7:30 before heading up. You can get food any time, you know, if you go down to the kitchens."

"Your sixth-years know that?"

"I'm sure they do. The seventh years definitely know... maybe i'll mention it next class, just for those who haven't found out. I'll have to make sure they know to keep it quiet from the younger-years, of course, or the house-elves will work themselves right out of their towels."

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you. But I'm sure they wouldn't mind. Plus, nobody normal would want to get up that early anyway!"

Alice laughed again, and took a bite of sausage.

"So, what, after that you've got Potions?"

She swallowed.

"Right -"

She went into her schedule, and Wendy returned to her potatoes. After Alchemy, she had two hours of first-years, a third or fourth-year class (depending on if it was a Toad or Frog day), then lunch, the _other_ third or fourth year class, two hours of second-years, the fifth years, and finally the sixth or seventh-years, also depending on the day.

She also had a course after her seventh-years on Frog days ("Elemental Transfiguration"), which just barely enough students had enrolled in to qualify it for offering, and then Magical Chemistry, which alternated with Alchemy on Toad-day mornings and was the most attended of her elective courses at thirty students. That made sense, as it was the most practical of the lot when it came to finding jobs. Alchemy and Elemental Transfiguration were a lot more concerned with theory and material philosophy than application.

Wendy was waving her hand by her ear as if Alice's schedule was too much for her.

"But I've only got a Gryffindor-Slytherin course on Frog days, with the fourth years," she reassured her (although in her experience it was the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw classes that were worse because of the working styles).

"That's still too much! Are you going to be spending all your lunches grading again?"

"We'll see. Hopefully not! I think I ought be able to put a bit more of the work toward Kingsley this time around, now that he's more familiar with everything."

"That ought to be a blessing. Sounds like you've barely enough time to go to the bathroom!"

She laughed - "Yes, I'm very grateful for him. He's a very talented person, you know, very smart, and very passionate about the subject, which is everything really. I want to get him up to handling lectures at some point, but that might be a year or two out."

"I see. Say, where's Mr. Handsome from the Feast last night?"

It took her a moment to realize she meant Evan. She grinned.

"Not sure, were you hoping he'd be here?" she teased.

"No," Wendy said, cheeks turning red. "Just thought it might be nice to have him around. He seemed to be up to your speed."

"My speed?"

"You know, with your heads packed full of books and everything. I thought it might be nice for you to have someone to talk to."

Alice paused, concerned.

"But I've got you!"

"Yes, but we're very different people, you and I. I'm just worried that you might get lonely, or… bored, maybe. I know you wouldn't mean to! But it happens. We don't have a lot of shared interests. I know you have Kingsley, but that's more of a working relationship from what I've seen. I was worried about you all last year. Especially when you got busy. Just, keep an open mind about it, eh? It's always nice to have more friends!"

Alice _did_ remember Wendy checking on her last year, and she also had the point that they didn't have much in common. But that was a good thing, after all - a variety of opinion made for better conversation. And she didn't _feel_ lonely or bored, but she knew saying that wouldn't put Wendy's mind at ease. Besides, she was touched Wendy had been thinking so much about her.

"I will, Wendy, thank you."

"Good," Wendy smiled, and they went back to their lunches.

"So… how are you and Richie?" Alice asked.

"Oh! We're fine, we meet at the Three Broomsticks every week or so, and write each other pretty regularly."

"Things aren't still… slow?"

"No, we've been getting on better recently."

Alice could tell it wasn't the whole of her thoughts, but that was a better conversation to have over a bottle of wine than in the middle of the school day.

"Okay, then. Is he still trying to breed Fluffskeins?"

"He actually had a breakthrough with that! He's quite excited about it, and has been in talks with customers over the last month! I think it's absolutely wonderful for him, and could even turn out to be quite the business if he plays it right, since Puffskein hair is quite the common potion ingredient, but you already know that of course -"

Wendy kept on with her enthusiastic monologuing, and Alice couldn't help but enjoy it, even if she wasn't allowed to get much food in with the constant checks for attention. She did let her mind wander once or twice when Wendy returned to her first-year curriculum (toads, rats, cats, owls, and chickens).

Her thoughts went to a time over the summer when she'd been out gathering around Gwydir Forest for a Sleeping Draught she'd been commissioned. Everytime she went there, there was always a raven that came out and flew alongside her, whether she was invisible or not. She wasn't sure how it always knew where she was, or when she came, but was happy for it - it was like having a friend to fly with. Maybe it was like Wendy always said... there was still a lot to learn about creatures, noticeably magical or not.

* * *

When lunch ended, Alice bade farewell to Professor Byron (Wendy had left ten minutes early to prepare her next lesson) and set out for class. The lectures for her upper-years were on the fourth floor, and she had to hurry to get there as it wasn't exactly right around the corner from the Great Hall. (She probably should have left ten minutes early, too, now that she thought about it.)

Fortunately, she knew of a stairwell on the northwest side of the castle that offered a bit of a shortcut. It didn't seem to be aware that the second and third floors existed, so getting up was nearly four times as fast, even if the route wasn't the most direct. This was quite lucky as any decent professor ought to arrive before their class, and even though she knew she probably wasn't going beat _all_ the students there, she could at least try to be punctual.

The room she'd gotten was large and boxy, and she was very proud to have acquired it: there were enough seats for a hundred students, which was perfect for her third through fifth-years, who averaged about sixty students per class and liked to space themselves out every other seat when they could. The desks were arranged on descending platforms, reminiscent of a massive, elongated staircase, the lowest of which fell on the same level as the teaching floor. Upon entering the room there was a long, sloping ramp that ran along the wall and took you down each level, and was big enough to allow for mass entering and exiting from the room. The opposite wall was set with a series of massive windows, which let in plenty of cheerful sunlight and gave an excellent view of the Quidditch stadium. The floors were a smooth stone, and the walls were patterned with large, gray brickwork and intermittent columns. Every few feet smoldered, unlit torches were set in their holsters, ready for when the sun went away.

The teaching floor was rather bare, featuring only a desk for her things, a Transmission Podium, and two enormous, white canvases hung high on the wall. Both of these were _enormously_ expensive, and were just icing on the cake as far as Alice was concerned - each were imbued with almost fifteen liters of colorful paints and dyes that could arrange themselves into a depiction of whatever you wanted upon direction with your wand. They shared a direct connection with the Transmission Podium, and would automatically form large-scale portraits of whatever scene you organized atop its surface (which, usually, was just textbook pages, lecture notes, and schematics). This allowed for _much_ more effective communication with your students than simple blackboards and chalk, which were nearly impossible to read at further distances.

The canvases were truly extraordinary pieces of magic, but we taken for granted by the current generation of students as they'd never known an educational experience without them. When Alice had been in school, they'd still been under development and she'd had to make due with the more basic supplies like the generations before her.

Alice plodded down the ramp (waving to whichever of the third-years called out to her), stowed her satchel in the cubby below the desk, and took out a few rolls of parchment to set upon the Podium. Above her, the canvases immediately smudged and smeared with woody brown and off-white paints until the scene was depicted - at her distance it looked like just a rather rough and cobbly oil painting, but she knew that by the first row of desks all the details would smooth together and everything that needed to be seen would be visible.

Pleased, she touched her wand to her throat and muttered " _Sonorous._ "

"Afternoon, everyone!" she called, voice amplified over the crowd of students still settling into their seats. "We'll be starting in a few minutes, please move to the center of the rows so people coming in can find spots..."

The instructions weren't needed for fourth-years and above, but since they were third-years this was the first time they'd be in a larger classroom. Unless, of course, they had lectures before hers, which wasn't _too_ unlikely, now that she thought about it.

"Where's everyone coming from, hmm?" she asked, voice reverberating slightly off the back wall. The crowd was mostly Slytherins, about three-quarters, with a few awkward-looking Hufflepuffs scattered about in small groups or sitting individually.

"Creatures, Care of Magical Creatures," said the Slytherins.

"Lunch," said a Hufflepuff in the front row, producing some scattered laughter.

The person coming in next to them rolled their eyes and said "Economics" as they set their things down.

"Creatures and Economics, huh? Well, for those of you who haven't had core classes yet, there's a bit of a change this year - bigger rooms!"

It was a que to laugh, and the laughter came, even if only because they knew they were supposed to.

"Everyone in your house from your year will now be attending your core subjects with you," she continued, "as well as those from one other house, as per normal. The size change will be a bit of an adjustment, requiring more independent learning, and less one-on-one time during lectures, but I'm sure you'll manage."

They would, too, even if small classes were better for them. This was a transitory year, and it was a point of pride amongst the students to take on the new resource challenges boldly, whether you were Gryffindor or not. More independence was a sign of more maturity, and if anyone grumbled or whined they would be seen as weak or behind in life readiness. Alice didn't like it, but it was a necessity, and she'd come to accept it in the few years she'd been professoring.

She snuck her writer out of her pocket to look at her Calendar Page, and just caught the 12:59 inked at the top-right corner as it melted into a 1:00. She tried to be subtle about it, as it wasn't the best example to set for her students.

"Well, now, that's time," she called, as the bells boomed mutedly throughout the castle. "I should probably mention that because classes are so big, any late-arrivals will automatically lose two house points without me saying so, so make sure you arrive on time! It's not my call, but it _is_ a matter of discipline required by Hogwarts policy, which we'll be looking at once we get into the syllabus…"

As she expected, the eyes of some students glossed over and they rested their chins in their hands, or turned and muttered to their friends as they tuned out of her lecture.

"However, you have my full permission to sneak in!" she declared, and more laughter broke out. "Just know that it's not _me_ you need to get past, it's the doors, so good luck finding some other way in -" this was met with much heartier laughter, and hopefully pulled the disinterested students back in again.

"Now, first thing's first. Who can tell me what _witchwater_ is?"

There was a moment of stunned silence. Of course everybody knew what witchwater was; it was the basic component of every single potion they'd been making for the last two years now. However, eager to prove themselves, a number of students raised their hands with detailed explanations likely waiting on their tongues.

"Good, I'm glad you've held onto that through summer vacation," she said, and there was some snickering as the eager ones lowered their hands (which she hadn't intended). "But how about a harder question - what other bases are there?"

A moment passed, and a girl halfway back raised her hand. Alice pointed to them -

"Water?" she tried.

"Yes, but can you be a bit more specific?"

"Er, normal water?"

"Hmm... if by normal you mean _fresh_ water, then yes - have a point to Slytherin!"

A boy by the windows raised their hand.

"Yes?"

"Saltwater?"

"Good thinking! Another point to Slytherin! Now, can anyone name a potion made from saltwater?"

Another boy sitting by the ramp with two friends stuck his quill in the air -

"That one for keeping mold off, Knight Shiner?"

"You're close! That _does_ have salt as an ingredient, but saltwater isn't the base. A point to Hufflepuff for effort, in any case - and by the way, everyone, I'll stop awarding points verbally from now on. If you give an honest attempt at an answer, it'll be worth one point to your house, but if you just say whatever you think, then it won't count. Now, who else?"

Nobody went for it.

"A potion from saltwater? Anyone? Well, as it happens, one of the most _powerful_ potions there is starts from saltwater - specifically, water from the ocean, which you must collect while submerged and completely _in the nude_. Anyone know what it is? No? It's the _Balnae Amnii_ , a liquid capable of carrying a fetus to term, should it become separated from its mother. Don't worry about writing that down, we're just doing an exercise… now, what other bases are there?"

There were a few more guesses - lake water, rain water, melted snow, vinegar, vegetable oil, blood, and _sand_ of all things, which Alice awarded three points to for thinking outside the box. However, the only "potion" she knew that started from sand was actually part of an obscure desert sacrificial ritual, which she didn't mention.

"Now, this year, as some of you might be guessing, we will be focusing a bit more on the early-stages of potion making. We will do a quick section on witchwater, which will be more of a refresher than anything, and will allow you to get familiar with the level of detail I will be expecting in your homeworks. Following that, we will move into how the various initial steps work to unlock or prepare potion bases for the ingredients, a few examples being heating, stirring, pouring…"

Alice moved to the podium and smoothly transitioned to the syllabus, unfurling the first scroll that had things written out for students to copy. She went through the topic overview, the learning goals, what dates projects or midterms were planned for (which she switched to the second scroll for; the canvases behind her remolding their dyes in time with her), and resigned herself to dutifully getting through the dull parts of Syllabus Day.

Things were going a little better than her earlier third-year class, which she'd had before lunch. She was more prepared, moved from one thing to another a bit more smoothly, and her audience-management skills had woken up a bit more from their snooze over the break. There were always the start-of-term jitters, of course; but she'd gotten most of them out that morning, and was able to power through any stumbles in her speech without disrupting the flow to much. She was a lot better than she was a few years ago, she was happy to realize, when she'd first started teaching.

"And of course, Class Expectations…" she said, unfurling a third scroll, which had two _long_ paragraphs on the Plagiarism and Disciplinary Action policies written out by the Hogwarts Board of Governors. "...Long story short, don't cheat!"

The scroll snapped together again, and there was some appreciative laughter.

"Now, Accommodations - if any of you are suffering from vampirism, lycanthropy, or other curses - _this is not funny_ -" the stern tone in her voice stopped any ongoing laughs or murmurs - "the medicinal system is here to provide aid, simply come to me or the nursing staff and assistance can be provided. We are here to make sure everyone can make the most of their education, and has access to the help they need.

"While we're on that topic - Disruptive Behavior. No talking in class, no making noise or using items that might distract the people around you. I'm not going to _ban_ writers, but there will be a lot of material covered this year, and your grade will suffer if you don't pay attention. But no Canary Creams, no Skiving Snackboxes (I've got some antidotes at the ready, as I'm sure you know), and nothing else you would expect to not be allowed in a classroom or the hallways. Also, if any of you have somehow become Metamorphmagi over the summer, or have awoken any ancestral Veelan abilities -" the students laughed - "please remember to be respectful to your fellow students, and again, do not be distracting. You will lose house points, and I will have to give out detentions for repeat offences.

"Now, last thing," she said, as the hour approached and the students began getting shifty. "As a reminder, we will be alternating lecture and brewing periods. On Frog Days we meet in the Dungeons for practical lessons, so make sure you keep track of where you're supposed to be. This Thursday you will be assigned to brewing groups, which will be teams of four, and no, you can't choose your partners. Learning to work around people you don't know is an essential life skill! Also, make sure you wear boots, work robes, and bring goggles and gloves if you have them, just like last year. Not causing gruesome damage to your body is also an essential life skill. And... I think that's it! Have a nice day!"

The noise in the room rose. Students stood and squeezed themselves out of their rows, and crowded the ramp as they made their way out of the classroom. Alice tapped her wand to her neck and whispered " _Quietus",_ then stuffed the scrolls back in her satchel and tapped the presentation canvases to clear them. Then, casting a last look around the classroom (a few students waved goodbye, but nobody approached her with a question), she went to the hidden door at the back and hurried through the tight corridor until she emerged back in the main hallway. (The students knew about the door, of course, but it was reserved for professors and staff. Besides, it really wasn't any faster than the main entrance, unless there was a crowding situation going on as was currently.)

Her next class was a second-year Slytherin-Ravenclaw mix, and was all the way back on the main floor of the building. Even with the shortcut staircase it would take a few minutes to get there, and more likely than not the second-years would beat her to it. She really needed some free time one day to go around and find more hidden passageways - after all, the hallways were always jammed with students, and there was only so much power a "Personal Space" ward could do.

"Afternoon, everyone!" she said, entering the classroom and dropping her satchel on the desk. This room was normal - there were desks for thirty kids and only a blackboard to teach off of, but she had her Bright-Chalk to make up for it.

She wrote "Potions 201" in bold rainbow letters, then turned and faced the tiny second-years, putting hands on her hips and smiling. There were still a few empty spots, but they had another minute or so before the bell rang, so that was okay. The second-years looked focused, not yet having the casual attitudes of the third-years and still holding onto some residual nervousness from their pre-Hogwarts days.

"Hello, hello!" she said. "Where's everyone coming from, hmm?"

* * *

== People of Modern Magic ==

Richard Phillip Arzabougi, known as "Richie" by his friends and "Arse-Boogie" by his childhood tormentors, is quiet, mild-mannered wizard of 38 solar revolutions. He and Wendy Figg got to know each other in the Three Broomsticks over a five-week period, during which they were two of the few remaining patrons an hour and a half before closing multiple nights in a row. As in many situations, time and scheduling put these two people together, and if not for the courage and latent comedic talent the drink bolstered in Richie, he might have been a lonely man for quite some time.

Richie works in magical livestock, helping breed and manage a variety of interesting creatures that are sourced for potion ingredients, food, and other commodities. Over the last few years, he has taken it upon himself to develop a more docile form of the Puffskein, as the current breed is a bit of a nuisance and difficult to manage for livestock applications (constantly energetic, wriggles through cages, causes insomnia in nearby creatures due to nighttime squeaks and hums, and has a bad habit of snaking its long, narrow tongue deep into the nasal canals of its caretaker). He was inspired by the Pygmy Puff, a breed developed by Weasley & Weasley, Inc. over half a century earlier, and sought to make something a bit more manageable for commodity production.

As it happened, his domestication technique triggered the development of larger body sizes and an enormous amount of shaggy hair. Until he managed to get the breed under control, these creatures were called anywhere from "Woolly Puffskeins" to "Arse-Boogie's Abominations", as there were more than a few individuals the layman might deem as "disturbing, bordering on grotesque." Fortunately, these wrinkles in the program were eventually ironed out, and the Fluffskein was born: lazy, short-tongued, easy to control, and very, very hairy. For the concerned reader, it is worthwhile to note that his endeavors were licensed by the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures Department in the Ministry of Magic, and were performed in a sanitary, well-managed, professional environment.

Richie has made Employee of the Month twenty-three times in the last decade. He lives in an apartment in the magical suburbs of London with his roommate, an intern in the Department of Magical Business and Industry named Douglas Zuwaldt, who Richie describes as "aloof" and "a bit of a knob, but that comes with his line of work."


	23. Kendra

_Every day at Hogwarts was an adventure._

"Hey Ray, can you grab the soil?"

 _The only problem was…_

The bottom of the soil bag split, filling her sleeves with heavily-scented fertilizer and burying the acorns they'd just spent the last half hour separating.

 _Adventures had both good parts and bad._

Across the workstations, she saw Potter smirk and slip his wand back in his pocket.

"WHAT'D YOU GO AND DO THAT FOR?"

The chatter in the greenhouse died as people looked between her and Potter, who immediately took on an innocent, surprised look.

"What's up? What's wrong?" asked the Teaching Assistant, who wound his way over to her between the tables.

"Potter split my bag!" she yelled, dumping the earth in her sleeves onto the floor.

"Don't blame me for being clumsy, Zuwaldt, you don't need any help with that."

Before she could respond, the TA (who'd told them to call him "Toby") spoke up.

"Now, now, these bags are known to split from time to time - let's just clean up and continue on with the lesson before the hour's up, eh? Not much time left..."

Toby performed a few movements with his wand, zipping up the bag and sending all the soil cascading back inside from off the floor.

"...Er, you'll need to take care of what's on the table, the spell won't be able to separate out your acorns. Sorry."

Furious at Potter, Ray grabbed handfuls of the fertilizer and shoved them back in the bag. _This is just great,_ she thought. _Even magic school has bullies_.

"What'd he do that for?" Zach asked, who had not only gotten in Gryffindor, but was her Herbology partner.

"He's got it out for me! He made fun of me on the train, and he's been a complete arse ever since!"

Zach continued separating acorns from his own bucket, expression doubtful.

" _What?_ You don't believe me?"

"No - it's just, he comes from a good family, doesn't he? The Potters have done loads for magical Britain..."

Ray continued throwing clumps of soil in the bag, not wanting to give herself away for not knowing things.

"...But I suppose there's a few baddies in every tree. Hey, let's put the soil in the pots. I've just finished with my acorns, so I can help."

They packed each of their six pots handfuls at a time (alternating five soil, one sand), mixed them until they were even, poked two-inch holes in their centers, and finally inserted one of their long, gray acorns. The acorns didn't seem particularly remarkable, besides having a chromatic sheen if you turned them the right way in the light, but apparently they grew into "extraordinarily magical" trees.

They headed back across the greens after class. Potter was at the front of the crowd, and Ray was glowering at his back, wishing she knew some hexes regardless of whatever Douglas wanted for her.

"So, he was just being mean to you, for no reason?" Zach asked.

"He was rude from the start, all because he's _so_ famous and I didn't recognize him immediately."

"Could be he was having a bad day, maybe? You didn't do anything else since then?"

" _What are you on his side for?"_

"I'm not, I'm not, I'm just trying to… get a better idea of the situation!"

"Well…"

Although she didn't want to admit it, she _had_ shot her pebble at him in Transfiguration.

"- But that was totally an accident!"

"And you apologized?"

"I did, but he didn't say anything after. That's on him though!"

"I suppose, if you did it sincere… Maybe he got jealous you were able to turn it yellow and he couldn't? But I mean, nobody else did it either, as far as I know."

That was true… she'd also showed him up in potions, now that she thought about it. Professor McDonnell had asked if anyone knew what Toad Slime was, and Potter answered it was for cleaning (which was right), but Ray had stolen his thunder by saying all the things Douglas told her the one day they went through his apartment. She'd gotten three whole points after, and he'd only got the one.

"So he's a big-headed arse that can't stand someone getting one up on him! That's still no reason to split my soil bag!"

"Maybe he's just frustrated. Ignore it, and maybe he'll stop. You want to work on the Herbology homework later?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Great, howabout after dinner in the common room - wanna exchange tabs?"

"Tabs?"

"You know, writer tabs."

"Oh - I don't have one."

Writers were expensive, and they weren't on the list of required supplies, so they hadn't gotten one. But she didn't say that.

"Ah, I understand. Me Mum was against me having one for the longest time, all the way up until my last birthday even. You definitely ought to try for one though, they're bloody useful and I think just about everyone's got one."

"Sure, I'll look into it."

The truth was, if she could manage getting by without she wasn't going to bother. Her Mum definitely didn't have the funds to spare, and if Douglas had any squirreled away somewhere it would be unfair to ask for it.

"So, what's the next class?"

Ray thought about it. "Lunch?"

He laughed - "No, I think it's Defense..."

"Ah, right."

Defense, which sounded interesting from the title, actually looked to be rather dull. Easily the most interesting part about it was Professor Smith, who had a Phantom Limb - he'd gotten his arm bitten off by a giant a few years back, and as such couldn't regenerate it by any known means. But he was able to get by well enough: he used an adaptive form of wordless, wandless magic, which Ray thought was totally awesome, and as far as she could tell allowed him to do all the things a normal arm and hand could do.

Outside of that, though, the class didn't look like it was going to be much. It seemed to be centered around "Prevention" and safety rather than combat or any actual defensive magic (at their level, at least), so it was probably going to be the most reading-and-writing intensive course out of the lot. Except for Magical Literature, probably.

Their first actual Defense lesson didn't raise their confidence any. For the first forty minutes everyone was made to read through the first chapter of _Avoiding and Evading Disaster_ , after which they'd only had a brief discussion of the key points. Throughout the whole period, Professor Smith sat at his desk working away through his papers, and quashed any rise in chatter with a simple look. Like a few other professors, he seemed to be a stern disciplinarian, which Kev had said was a "damn important thing if you were gonna to be Head of Gryffindor House."

They'd talked the matter over on their jog that morning.

"Yeh, he's a bit of a hard-ass," Kev told her as they went up a forested trail. "Takes his subjects ve-ry seriously."

"But you can hardly blame him," said Ashley, who was jogging alongside him. "After losing an arm? He's been in the field long enough to know what kinds of things go wrong when people take things lightly."

Ray had wanted to know if there were any giants in England, but was huffing a bit too hard to ask - she wasn't used to working against an uphill slope. However, the next second it was answered for her:

"'Course, he might be a bit outta touch - I can't recon there's too many giant hoards ready to swim across the Channel."

"Well, true, but the attitude is still important. You okay back there, Ray?"

"Fine! There's a lot of forest through here!"

Kev laughed - "Yessiree, and this's a new trail, too, goes right to the top of the nearest peak!"

Ray paled, but trooped on resolutely.

"Must be expensive to develop the land," Ashley commented, "we've only got, what, five miles of trails, total?"

"Tha's right! And most of it's looped! They need a lot of manpower to un-forbidden the forest. I mean, think about it, there's all kinds of things they gotta keep back - acromant-choo-las, were-wolves, I wouldn' even be surprised if some of them skrewts escaped over the years!"

"Ooo, don't say that, Kev, those skrewts are nasty business."

"Say, Firsty, you still think'n about trying out for the team?"

Ray had been - the thing was, her first experience on a broom hadn't gone too well, and she'd learned Potter wanted to try out too, which would be annoying.

It had been just yesterday: they'd gone out to the courtyard in the middle of Hogwarts, which was mostly grass, with an undercover walkway built into side of the castle around the perimeter. There was a fountain and benches through the middle, which divided the yard into two, and the boys were put on one side with Mr. Vola, while the girls were on the other with the TA.

Ray had mixed feelings about learning flying: on the one hand, it was the gateway to the internationally-famous magical sport Quidditch, which apparently rivalled even _soccer_ in the eyes of the magical community. That was pretty high stakes. On the other, it was one of those things about magical life she had very little practice with, and she'd have to learn it in front of everyone.

More or less, she was terrified about this. Every day since she'd started at Hogwarts, her anxiety of being found out as coming from a Muggle background had built. It was constantly on the edge of her thoughts - she tried not to ask any questions about the wizarding world, fell into silence whenever the subject of Muggles came up, didn't draw attention to herself by wearing her Manchester United t-shirt in the mornings. She was constantly worried about Potter outing her, but for some reason or another he'd kept it silent. She wished there was a class that would just _tell_ her everything she needed to know about wizardry, but she didn't have any luck there either.

Very little of what she'd heard of Muggles was good - she was sure, if people found out about her background, she'd be cast out and teased just like Douglas had said.

"Okay!" called the TA, accented voice friendly. "Each of you are to come alongside a broom! You must stand on the side with your dominant hand. You will raise your hand over the broom, and command it to come up."

"What do we say?" asked a Hufflepuff girl.

"Sorry?"

"What do we say, to get it to come up?"

The TA laughed a great, wheezy laugh - "You say, 'Up!', you just say 'Up!'"

They set to work, but commanding the brooms was more difficult than it sounded. Ray's flopped around a few times, at one point drifting a few feet off to the right, and she was relieved to see everyone else was having similar success.

"You must command it!" the TA repeated. "It is your tool, you must expect it to do what you want, like you expect your fork to carry your food to your mouth!"

That helped - the broom fell back down only once, and on her next attempt it came up into her grip, although it didn't have the sudden magnetic attraction somebody else had managed. She tried a few more times, and once everyone got the hang of it, they were told to mount them.

"This part you should know how to do," the TA said. "But if you are Muggle-born, or have never ridden a broom before, call to me, and I will come help you!"

Ray gripped the shaft nervously. Was she about to give herself away? Was she about to make a complete fool of herself? Hopefully everybody would be just as bad as they were at _commanding_ the brooms, but what if that was just something nobody bothered with, and could ride them perfectly fine all the same?

Fearful, she mounted the broom, staring at the wood between her legs. It seemed like an extraordinarily foolish thing to be doing - it was just an old-fashioned, wood-and-twigs broom, and she knew as soon as she tried kicking off she'd end up flat on her face. What if she couldn't get it to respond at all? What if everyone else got up in the air, no trouble, while she was left on the grass desperately trying get up?

She didn't have long to worry: two girls, the ones she'd taken as Muggle-borns, were a ways down the line and already hovering a few feet off the ground. It looked like they were trying to balance on bikes without wheels, and they were giggling madly as though there was nothing sillier. One of them almost had it, then lost her seating and tumbled onto the grass, shrieking with laughter, which sent her friend into hysterics alongside her. As the TA hustled over she doubled-over, using the broom to keep herself from collapsing.

The sight buoyed her. If they could do it without worry, then she could too. Under the cover of their commotion, she brought her foot down and shoved off the grass. She was only expecting to do an awkward hop and be back on the ground again, but the broom caught her and carried her up, nearly four feet into the air! Unfortunately, she then realized she had no idea how to sit properly, and an instant later she pitched forward and plummeted to the ground.

As she fell, a series of things happened.

She realized her wand was still in her pocket.

She fell in such a way that her pocket was oriented directly with the ground.

She landed hard.

Her wand exploded.

Scrambling to her knees, blood drained from her face as she dug madly into her robes. Had there been a snap? Had she _broken_ her wand, before the year had barely began? Pulling it out from her pocket, she gingerly checked it for damage, eyes wide and fingers shaking - but it was completely fine.

"Are you okay?" the TA asked, having rushed over.

Her pocket was smoking from where the burst had occurred, but the wand itself - there was no sign of fracture, no splintering, and after a few experimental bends (which only caused a few red sparks to leak out the tip), she remembered what Mr. Ollivander had said: _Flexible, remarkably flexible._

"Did your wand break?" the girl next to her asked.

"No, it's… it's fine."

Somehow.

"Lucky you!"

"Do you know how to mend robes?"

The girl shook her head.

"Come here, I will fix them," said the TA.

Ray didn't want help from him, as it might make people think she was Muggle-born or something - but she couldn't see any reason to refuse.

"There are all kinds of explosions and fires in brewing potions," the TA said, and tapped her skirt with his wand. Instantly, the smoking stopped and the threading weaved back together. "Now, how about you put your wand with your books, and come and try again?"

"Sure - thanks."

The TA laughed good-naturedly and waved her off, and she did as he said. However, the next fifteen minutes didn't show much progress. She ended up back on the ground again and again, and each time the TA rushed over, making her frustration build and her face burn with shame.

"I can do it," she said heatedly, before he started giving her tips again.

At that, he wheezed with laughter - "You are all the same, man!"

Her pulse thumped - was he calling her Muggle-born?

"...All of you Gryffindors! You all get so angry, so angry!"

Suddenly, her temper dropped and she felt a rush of gratitude toward him. He didn't think she was Muggle-born at all! He thought she was a Gryffindor, he thought she was perfectly at place right where she was.

"Okay..." she said, getting herself calm. "What am I doing wrong?"

"You must relax! The broom is not a dragon, okay? You do not need to wrestle it! Now keep trying!"

"Sure," she laughed. "Thanks, Mr., er...?"

He looked at her, confused.

"What is 'mister-er'?"

"Uh, what's your name?"

"Oh!" he laughed. Every time he laughed, he did it with his whole mouth, showing off all his brilliant white teeth. Ray liked it; it was very genuine.

"I am Kingsley!" he said. "Call me that, man!"

And with that, he rushed off to help the two Muggle-born girls again, who were hooting and whooping with a mixture of glee and terror as they rose off the ground, each of them clutching the other with their arms and likely to be back on the grass at any moment.

By the end of the lesson, Ray had managed to hover at a few feet and stay balanced (though she was jittering this way and that the whole time), then come back down and catch herself before losing her footing. Her neighbor, who had had a few tumbles throughout the lesson and never got more than a few seconds off the ground, let her broom fall down with a grimace.

"How'd you do?" Ray asked.

"Not great, but I'm not too bothered. I've never been much for brooms."

"Isn't it important to learn, though?" she asked, as they set off toward the pile of book-bags together.

The girl shrugged off-handedly. "Maybe, but i can't be fussed. I'm never going to pick one up again once I learn to Apparate. How's your wand?"

"Fine, i think," she said, pulling it out.

"That was quite the bang - let me guess, skrewt-tail?"

"For the core? Er, no, actually, I'm not sure what it is."

"Mine's unicorn hair," the girl said, pulling hers out. It was just as long as Ray's, only much darker and glossed with some sort of varnish.

"That's kind of an odd-looking wand," the girl said, studying hers. "You sure it was finished?"

"He said it was, and it worked best for me out of the ones i tried."

"Well, I don't know what to say about that. I don't know much about wands. You're Ray, aren't you? Got that big Slytherin brother? Weren't you the one who managed to turn your pebble?"

"That's me!"

"I'm Kendra," she said, sticking out her hand, which Ray shook. "Kendra Bernier. Most of my family's in Ravenclaw. I've got a brother here, fifth year; he wants to start his own delivery service."

At that moment, Zach jogged up along the walkway.

"Did your wand explode?!"

"Nope, it just didn't like me landing on it. Zach, this is Kendra!"

"Pleasure," Kendra said.

"How'd you do on the brooms, Zach?"

"Did alright. Nowhere near as well as that Devin Potter."

"Potter's good on brooms?"

"Yeah, he spent the whole time talking about trying out for Seeker."

Ray didn't say anything.

"I'm sure I'll pick it up soon enough," Zach said. "I bet it's just one of those things you have to get used to before it gets easy. Potter was sure making it look simple though."

"Of course he was," said Kendra. "His family's all famous Quidditch players, aren't they?"

"That's true," Zach said.

They shouldered their bags and walked back into the castle together. Even with the news that Potter was into Quidditch, Ray was glad the lesson hadn't gone too poorly and she'd managed to avoid being found out as Muggle-born.

"So, what's next?" Zach asked.

"Charms," said Kendra. "I've been looking forward to this one all day. We're going to be practicing the most magic here, she said."

That was right… on Syllabus Day, the Charms teacher, Professor Marwazi, had said most of their lessons were going to be practical, with very little sitting-time.

"You think there's going to be much homework?" Ray asked.

"Not sure."

When they got to Charms, Ray, Zach, and Kendra took seats near the front of the class. Kendra had already read the first two chapters of the textbook, while Zach had read the section relevant to _Wingardium Leviosa,_ the charm planned for the day. Ray, however, had only leafed through while going through the rest of her books - she'd been more concerned at the time with finding all the cool diagrams and sketches, which moved around like the magical photos and paintings.

"Ah, good, it's the Ravenclaws," said Kendra. "Natalie!"

Ray looked around and spotted the girl Kendra was calling over, whose face broke into a smile and hurried over. She was solidly-built, though not un-pretty, and had her black hair braided in two pigtails.

"Hello, everyone," Natalie said, taking a seat.

Ray and Zach greeted her friendily, but before Ray turned forward again another student caught her eye: _Cole_. Cole, entering the classroom like she owned the place, with a crisp uniform, pointy witch hat, and side-bag arranged carefully at her hip. She surveyed the room with a cool indifference, and suddenly, they caught eyes. Cole paused in her steps, then took a seat at the back of the class without any further indication they'd seen each other.

Ray whirled forward, flaring with anger. She badly wanted to march over there and demand some answers - how could she have made fun of her for believing in Hogwarts? How could she have _pretended_ to think witches and mermaids were childish, when she herself had gotten a letter too? And what Ray wanted to know most, what made her the most angry - how could she have acted all superior, talked down to her, when they were both invited to the same school? Not to mention she'd _torn her letter!_

Her pulse was thumping, but she couldn't make a move, not unless she wanted to cause a scene and let everyone know she'd come from a Muggle school in the process. She should have _known_ she'd have a class with Cole eventually, or at least've been prepared to see her after the Sorting, but it was still a nasty shock. Right when she thought she'd have a fresh start!

"Okay, quiet down now, please find your seats," said Professor Marwazi, entering from a door at the back of the classroom.

The back of Ray's neck tingled with the thought of Cole watching her. This was just great - not only did she have Potter to worry about (who was sitting on the opposite side of the room from her), but now Cole too.

"Did everyone read the assigned chapter?"

Ray refocused, deciding to ignore everything but the lesson: _The chapter had been *assigned*?_ She hadn't caught that.

"Good - now, who can describe to me the Levitation Charm, which we will be attempting shortly? Yes, Miss?"

Cole's cool voice cut through the classroom like knives in her ears.

"The Levitation Charm, incantation _Wingardium Leviosa_ , is used to compel objects through the air. It is a versatile spell, with power ranging with the user's, and therefore can be one of the first charms learned. It is not possible for use on one's self."

"Very good, very good!" Professor Marwazi said. "Two points to Ravenclaw! Now, as Miss…?"

"Cole, Professor."

"As Miss Cole said, the Levitation Charm allows you to control an object or animal's flight through the air…"

As Professor Marwazi spoke, she walked between the rows of desks to the back of the class, and most people turned to follow her. Ray, however, remained sitting forward, twiddling her wand in her hands. Zach glanced at her once, but didn't say anything.

"That girl's smart," Kendra whispered to Natalie. "You know her?"

"No... I'm too shy."

"Well talk to her, she might be nice."

"She's not."

Kendra looked at Ray.

" _You_ know her?"

"We're from the same... neighborhood."

Kendra didn't ask anything more, and Ray forced herself to turn and watch Professor Marwazi, even if it meant Cole and Potter were in her sight. Fortunately, she was moving back to the front of the class.

"...Now, we shall spend the first part of class going over the usage and procedure of the charm, as well as its capabilities and limitations, and may begin discussing derivative charms, such as the Hovering charm, Floating charm, and Rocket charm, which could come up in your homework. The second part of class will be practical; the desks shall be arranged in two rows, and you will have the opportunity to attempt the spell yourself. Parchment and quills, please."

And with that, Professor Marwazi turned to the large, white canvas hung over the blackboard, and began painting diagrams and poking out words and sentences with her wand. Ray looked down at the supplies in her backpack, tempted to go for the spiral-bound notebook and pencil bag she'd been using all her life, but decided on a roll of Bicorn-skin parchment and a fresh goose-feather quill instead. If she wanted to avoid being picked out as a Muggle, she was going to have to commit to it, no matter how stupid quills were.

Throughout the lesson, Ray, Zach, and Kendra took notes, with Kendra interrupting Professor Marwazi every now and then to ask her re-explain something. It wasn't easy going to the ink well every five seconds (or so it felt), but she was determined.

"You press really hard," Kendra observed at one point, which Ray took as a que to write more gently.

Finally, after nearly forty minutes of frantically marking things down, they were allowed a ten-minute break before the practical session.

"You've got really neat writing," Ray said to Kendra.

"I've had a lot of practice. My parents wanted me to be in top shape before school."

"I haven't done much, I spent most of my time looking after our farm."

"Well, it's not too bad," Zach observed. "At least, next to mine."

When break ended, everyone stowed their things in their bags and Professor Marwazi aligned the tables in two rows along the length of the classroom. Ray paired with Zach, while Kendra went with her friend Natalie. They queued in pairs to the front of the class, where they collected practice objects from a bag Professor Marwazi had brought, then went to look for tables.

"Oh, no, what are you doing over here, Zuwaldt?"

It was Potter.

"Finding a place to practice, what's it look like?"

"Not over here you're not, I'd like to come out of Charms in one piece, thanks."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, temper rising.

"Didn't you make your broom explode earlier? I've never heard of that happening."

"She landed on her wand!" said Zach, stepping up to defend her.

Potter glanced at him before going back to Ray.

"All the more reason for you to find your own corner to practice in, if you're not used to wands. You'd be putting other people in danger. "

"What are you talking about?" said Kendra. "People do stupid things with their wands all the time. It's not rare."

Ray was glad to have people on her side.

"I think I'm fine where I am, thanks - why don't _you_ go somewhere else, if you're so concerned?"

Potter looked from her, to Zach, to Kendra and Natalie, and saw it wasn't a fight he was going to win.

"Have it your way. Let's hope the room doesn't fall down. C'mon, Liv."

Olivia, Ellen's friend, glanced at her with an unreadable expression before heading off with Potter to the other end of the class. Cole was down there too, she was glad to see.

"What'd he mean, you're not used to wands?" Kendra asked.

"I've no idea. C'mon, let's get these tables."

The four of them set their objects out in front of them (Ray had a small maple leaf, Zach and Kendra had feathers, and Natalie had a puff of cotton), and after a bit of instruction from Professor Marwazi, set to work. The whole time, Kendra and Zach talked about underage magic (apparently, the Ministry either didn't care or couldn't tell if you did it with adult supervision), while Ray fumed about Potter's big-headedness and Cole being an insufferable know-it-all. Thankfully, something good happened toward the end of the lesson -

"How are you doing that?" Kendra asked sharply.

Ray had been flopping her maple leaf around in the air for the last five minutes, and apparently nobody else had even gotten their things all the way up off the table.


	24. Evan (Part 2)

Alice pushed her way out of East. The morning was misty, fading the greenhouses on the far side of the field and obscuring the tops of the trees within the Forbidden Forest. The jogging loop was deserted except for Daniel Apricity, who was running along as per normal for this time of the day, small puffs of breath escaping now and then as she went. Watching her, Alice couldn't help but think that it'd still be dark soon at this hour, once they got further into autumn.

Evan was there on the path. He was looking out toward the small trail of steam rising from Hagrid's cabin, faced away, hands stuck in the pockets of his cloak. Like her, he'd neglected to bring a hat, which she was regretting now with the chill. Unlike him, her outfit was somewhat mismatched: she had on a pair of boots, a long purple skirt, and oddest of all, an expensive Muggle sweater, which was form-fitting and allowed a full range of movement while still offering the same warmth a pair of robes would bring you. She might've looked a bit out of place, but hey, she was a person of functionality, and wasn't about to sacrifice it for aesthetic. Plus, it was a Saturday, and nobody was up.

Having heard East seal shut behind her, Evan looked around and smiled. He hadn't had a shave that morning, but the look wasn't bad on him.

"Good morning, Professor McDonnell."

"Morning… Mr. Escere," she laughed.

They'd agreed to meet for a morning stroll (after much persuasion on her end by Wendy), and decided that before breakfast would fit best with their schedules. She still wasn't sure what to think of Evan - he'd always been sort of a recluse, staying up in the Hospital Wing and his office, never doing much to warrant rumors outside of the stories made up by the mid-year girls. He'd just sort of been a background character, somebody who was there and never really bothered to socialize, but now here he was, out for a morning walk. The Potions Professor, and the mysterious school nurse. Life was funny sometimes.

"I hope this isn't too early for you?" he asked.

"Oh, it's early, but it's good for me. I have a bad habit of sleeping in on the weekends."

"I know exactly what you mean. Is that one of your famous Pick-Me-Ups?"

"Famous, are they?" she asked, looking at the thermos in her hands. "Well, no, actually, it's a Muggle potion I've grown fond of, they call it -"

"A mocachino! I remember you mentioning it now."

"That's right!"

"Well… shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the Quidditch stadium.

"Sure."

She joined him on the path, but just before they set off, East banged open again and a pack of Gryffindors came charging out.

"Mornin', Professor McDonnell!" called Kevin Philip, a fifth-year on their Quidditch team. The others echoed his greeting.

"Good morning!" she called.

As they joined Daniel Apricity on the loop, Alice caught sight of a first-year running in their midst.

"Hey, there's that Zuwaldt kid," Evan remarked.

"Which?"

"The one who fell in the lake. Gave off the impression she might be trouble?"

"Oh, Ray!"

"Right," he said, and after a last look, they set off down the path.

"You said she was Muggle-born?" Evan continued.

"Well… Muggle-raised, her Mum had remarried, and I never met her birth-father. Why the interest?"

"Oh… just… I'm glad to see she's getting on so well. Must be a hard adjustment, you know."

"Good thing there's Wizardry 101, eh?"

"That's true…" he said thoughtfully.

They trodded along the dirt trail, Alice trying to spot signs of life within Hagrid's hut, but he had the curtains drawn.

"So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Escere."

"Dr. Escere, actually, Mr. Escere is my father."

She laughed.

"Well, ex-doctor," he corrected, "seeing as I'm not practicing anymore."

"You were a full doctor, then?"

"Sure was."

"What made you go out of it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, please do, I never shy away from a question. I did it for the research. I've been practicing pretty much from the moment I left this place -" (he nodded at the castle) - "until about four years ago, when I signed on to work here."

"You were just before me then!"

"I guess so," he said, considering her. "You came back for research too, right? You said you worked with potions, and... alchemy?"

"Oh, yes, in part, but I've always wanted to teach in some regard. I just never thought I'd get the opportunity to do it at Hogwarts! It's a dream come true."

"So what, you were a Ravenclaw then?"

"Why yes I was, what tipped you off?"

"Ravenclaws are studious, aren't they? Passionate about knowledge and learning, like the Hat always says?"

"Well, sure -"

"- But there's always exceptions," he finished, and they laughed.

"So… I was going to guess Ravenclaw for you too," she said, "seeing as you're in research, but since you talked like you weren't one, I'll guess… Hufflepuff?"

"No, I was never that fortunate."

She raised her eyebrows - she'd been teasing him, of course, since nobody really wanted to be in Hufflepuff, at least when she was in school.

"Hufflepuffs get to choose their houses, don't they?" he explained.

"Well, you could've always made the Hat put you somewhere."

He laughed - "Maybe so. However, sometimes it picks too fast, and sometimes you don't know you've got that option, particularly if you're young, and it's supposed to be secret -"

"Ah," said Alice.

"But most importantly, if you go in with the idea to make the Hat put you where you want go to try and carry out some plot of yours, it's almost a guaranteed one-way ticket to Slytherin."

She laughed. "So you're a Slytherin!"

"I was indeed. But, again, there's always exceptions to the Sorting - at least half, if not more of my friends, were Ravenclaws. I even had a few Gryffindors toward the end."

" _Gryffindors?_ I thought you said you were a Slytherin!"

He chuckled.

"True enough, but the road to being a Mediwizard is a rough one, and the coursework sort of forces everyone together in the later years."

"Oh, i can understand that. It's the same in a lot of the technical fields - my upper-years are all mixed together, in fact, from fifth-year onward, and I make it a point to form brewing teams with as much variety as possible. Helps build interpersonal skills!"

"Right, it's a good idea," he said.

A ways up the slope to their left was the quiet danger of the Whomping Willow, which would've started flexing its branches if they got any closer.

"So - if a lot of your friends were Ravenclaws - how come we didn't know each other?"

"Well, we might have been different years, haven't we? When did you graduate?"

"2060."

"Ah, I was '54. So, when I was in seventh-year, you must have been in your... second?"

"Huh, okay. And you and your friends went right into doctoring right after?"

"Mostly. You have to do an Apprenticeship for a few years, and some of them transferred to America in th at time to try their hands at raking in the galleons. That'd be the Slytherins," he grinned.

"'Raking in the galleons'?"

"Yeah, the healthcare system over there is privatized."

"I thought they had universal!"

"No, that's the Muggles. One of the few regions where they're ahead of us. Of course, they're still kept on a short leash, a lot moreso than they are here."

"Right."

That was something Alice didn't particularly agree with, but didn't know enough about to get into a discussion over. As someone who worked to advance understanding and knowledge herself, suppressing it seemed sort of… evil. But from all the things she'd heard over the years, it sounded like a necessary one.

They walked for a moment in silence, the Quidditch stadium growing ever-nearer, and the sun finally starting to burn off the mist. A few more joggers went past, either up into a forested trail or into the stadium itself, but none stopped to say hello.

"So why didn't _you_ go over to America?"

"I didn't feel like moving. And besides, I still had a lot of friends in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor who stayed here. Maybe it was also that making money wasn't my biggest ambition."

"What was?"

"My biggest ambition? Well…"

"Saving people? Putting your skills into practice, and becoming the World's Best Healer?"

He smirked. "Maybe, although it sounds a little Gryffindor when you say it like that."

"What was that you were saying a few moments ago about being friends with Gryffindors?"

"Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against them! There were plenty of times at St. Mungo's when I would have liked to have a bit more Gryffindor in me..."

She looked at him, but he didn't go on with any details.

"What do you say - want to go right?"

"Okay."

They took a branch that veered off the main path and went around the side of the stadium, headed down toward the lake. Here, the grounds were a bit more hillocky, and the grass more interrupted by tough weeds and stubby wildflowers.

"So, how about you, Professor?" he asked. "What got you into potions?"

"Please, call me Alice."

"Alright then. What got you into potions, Alice?"

"Well," she said, "it was actually alchemy, to be honest. Growing up, some of my favorite heroes were alchemists -"

"Who?"

"Oh, I'm sure you've heard of them. Hayyan, Roger Bacon, Theophrastus Bombastus, Flamel, Albus Dumbledore, Granger, of course -"

"The Witch Granger? She isn't really known for her alchemy, is she?"

"Well, you're right, but she's done a bit, and that was good enough for me. Of course every little girl wants to grow up to be like Granger -"

"It's hard not to, with all the things she's done."

"Exactly! But that's what set me down the path."

"And potions?"

"Potions came along at the same time. There wasn't a great alchemy program at Hogwarts when I was going through - and mind, it could _still_ use some work - but Potions and Ancient Runes were as close as I could get, so that's what I studied."

"And after you graduated?"

"Well, I went into higher education for a few more years, doing a sort of Apprenticeship as well -"

She'd worked under a man named Orindoler Sprigget, who was an alchemy master that had decent availability due to his willingness to take on multiple underlings at once. She learned under him for five years (never getting to meet Granger, which Evan had asked), before her potions freelancing started taking off and she began putting less time toward her alchemy projects. Then, after two years of freelancing and conducting potions research (applying the techniques she'd learned with alchemy), she realized she wasn't enjoying herself much and wanted to go back to the collaborative learning environments offered in her Apprenticeship and in school. One day, one of her contacts told her Professor Chang was retiring; she sent in her application, and the rest was history. Steady income, more resources available for her projects, and happily teaching.

"But what I don't understand is why you left St. Mungo's," she said. "Why come to Hogwarts? If you were already a member of CAP, that ought to have been more than enough credentials to get you the grants you wanted, and then you could do your research at the hospital where you'd have a better setup - or I imagine, at least."

Evan didn't respond immediately. They came to a stop on the edge of the grass, just before it gave way to a long stretch of mud that was the lake's shoreline. The mist had cleared, and the water stretched out before them, bouncing and bobbing under the overcast sky. The stench of algae and muk was more noticeable here, but so was the smell of fresh earth coming from the forest, which sat a few hundred feet away in its morning drowse. Now and then, a few bird songs came through the quiet.

"Well," he said, "it would take a bit of explanation..."

"I've got till breakfast!"

"You sure you want to know?"

"As a rule, i never shy away from an answer."

He smiled.

"Well… alright, then. The short answer is I was tired of practicing and needed a break. That's not an option I'd have if I wanted to stay at the hospital, particularly given my rank."

"And the long answer?"

"I guess the first thing you'd have to know is what it's like working there. You ever have long, stressful days where you're busy non-stop, and can't even think about taking a break?"

"Sure, that's my job right now."

He laughed.

"Maybe I should put it like this: imagine you have to do a week-long project in a day. You try to break it down into deadlines, or discrete tasks that seem more manageable, but they keep overlapping. You're losing time left and right, one thing doesn't go well and sets you back, then something else needs an additional bit of work you didn't think of, and now there's a whole other block of time you have to incorporate somehow. You thought what would take you four hours takes you eight, and the one thing you thought would be the pride of your work ends up being mediocre. You're frustrated, angry, worried, but you can't let yourself get emotional, because that would compromise your productivity. So you bury it for later, even if you know that 'later' probably won't come anytime soon. You ever have days like that?"

"Yeah... more than a couple."

That said, when she was feeling overly stressed she was always able to write Gregor, but she didn't say that as Evan might not've had the same sort of relationships.

"Then you know what it's like. Now add on top of that, every one of your setbacks or failures is met with a bunch of angry people, or worse, scared people. There's your supervisors, _their_ supervisors, your patients, and your patients' families. People try to be understanding, to sympathize, but everyone's life is stressful, and if you're not performing perfectly, then you're seen as a problem. And if you're a problem... you get cut, and someone takes your job. It's like that every day."

"That sounds like a lot to handle."

"That's only the first year," he said, after a pause. "That's being an intern... you get past that, you'll be a different person, no matter who you were coming in. There are times when you don't know what to do, and just have to choose something and hope you're able to minimize the damage as possible. There are times when you might be the most qualified person there, and you have to decide between stopping someone's wounds from dumping out all their blood, and someone in the next room whose body is flooded with anxiety essence and petrifying the muscles in their heart. There are times when you wake up in a cold sweat wondering if you misdiagnosed something, or if your supervisor overlooked a detail you should have told them about.

"Then you get further into your residency. Your employment is a bit more stable… but you have more responsibility. You have to take qualifying exams before you can move up, and those take a lot of study that you don't really have time for. And if you make it through them, you can begin a fellowship in a particular discipline, then be examined by the board, and if all goes well, become a doctor."

Alice was trying to process it all. She'd had enough experience in stressful working conditions to start imagining what it would be like, but with that much non-stop responsibility, day after day, it sounded awful. And if you throw in angry and scared people on top of that - who weren't angry and scared because of the situation, but were _angry and scared at you_ , for the things _you did_ \- well, she was glad she picked Alchemy.

"And you barely get to sleep. You're given special writers that chirp at you like loud crickets whenever you're needed, and you have to Apparate in immediately no matter what you're doing."

"Oh, man."

He smiled at her in a grimacing-sort-of-way.

"Muggle doctors have it worse. Their patients might not have some of the... more gruesome symptoms, that come out of curses or exposure to nasty plants and animals, but their bodies aren't as resilient as ours. Broken bones are often life-changing, organs fail all the time, their blood systems are constantly getting gummed up, and they have to imbibe all sorts of dangerous compounds to keep their bodies from attacking themselves, or to fight off diseases they have that make spattergroit look like chicken pox."

She grimaced.

"I've heard of those. It sounds like they're in a constant state of war with disease, like an arms-race of sorts."

"Yeah. That's a good way to put it."

"But they don't give up, do they? They've learned some truly remarkable the things about biology and chemistry over the years, and then there's all the techniques they've developed to manage things."

"Yeah. But I still feel bad for them... I feel like they're all a bunch of Hufflepuffs, trying to be Ravenclaws."

"How do you mean?"

"Oh, _Hufflepuffs_ in the old-fashioned sense. Back when it was still a House, all the time. You remember its values?"

"Er... friendship and hard-work?"

"Something like that. For some reason, it made all the other houses look down upon them… they thought of them as weak, or bumbling, or useless. Sheer idiocy, if you excuse me for saying so."

She watched him for a moment, but he left it there.

"There's one thing Muggle doctors and Mediwizards have in common, though. We're both human. We both get stressed, we both get overworked, we can both feel alone, or unsupported, or get depressed. Some of us start considering… giving up, or doing awful things to ourselves. I knew someone who…" he paused. "I'm sorry, let's change the subject, maybe talk about something more cheerful."

"Is that what happened to you? If you don't mind me asking."

"No... not to me. At least, it wasn't what made me need a break. There were certainly some rough moments like i described, in the first year or so. I was run pretty ragged. That was when i wished there was a bit more Gryffindor in me. Something that... made me stronger, or gave me more courage, that sort of thing. Of course, a few years in, I realized it was just youthful thinking. There's no way to prepare for it. Those people that gave up, and left… i don't think less of them. With the amount of stress they removed from their lives, it'll probably help them live longer.

"No, what made me leave was what was sometimes the best part about the job, sometimes the worst. I got close to a patient. Of course, it's hard not to, and they certainly weren't the first ones I got on well with, but for some reason or other it hit me harder than normal when they went."

"When they went?"

"Died."

"Oh."

"It's not uncommon. And, that's why it's never a good idea to get too close. But it's not always easy. It was never something we learned about in school, either, or later when we were Apprenticing or Interning - managing your emotions. It sounds easy enough on paper: _Just don't let yourself get attached._ But when you're working the job - when you have direct contact with your patients - it's impossible not see them as people. It's impossible to not be affected by the emotion there, in their rooms, in the concern of their families, in… everything that arises. I mean, it's not like you lose every patient you're charged with, thank goodness. But the ones that do go, or have to be referred to a different doctor - it gets at you."

He breathed. Alice had the impression he hadn't been able to talk about this sort of thing in a while.

"Losing people made me work harder, for a time. I kept trying to use it as motivation to be better, to put in more effort. And it worked to some degree, but it still wears you down. Eventually, I started to think, how can I be more useful? How can I make things easier for doctors and patients _everywhere_ , instead of singular, one-on-one cases? And i think, when he went, it was the the last bit of motivation i needed."

"And you thought research?"

"Exactly. I enlisted in CAP, joined a study group, took fewer patients, but there's a minimum amount, and it's usually not well-looked upon to hit it. So I took a break. I froze my employment status and remained on with CAP, looked for part-time work elsewhere, and had to decide between a pharmacist position in Godric's Hollow and a nursing one at Hogwarts. Eventually i realized Godric's didn't have the best benefits, and their city library wasn't very well-stocked, and so…"

"Here you are."

"Here I am."

"Wow."

She took a deep breath and looked out across the water.

"Well, it's hard to beat Hogwarts when it comes to research material," she said. "It's got the biggest library in Britain, doesn't it?"

"It does. I imagine it comes in handy for alchemy, too?"

"Oh, no actually, alchemy texts are usually _impossible_ to decipher, so a lot of the work is done off well-known techniques or in developing new ones."

"Sounds frustrating."

"You have no idea!"

They laughed, and she took a draw of mocachino, then offered it to Evan but he politely declined. The forest had woken up a bit more now, with an occasional unidentifiable bellow or shriek joining in with the bird songs.

"Well, shall we head back?" he asked.

"What time is it?"

He looked at his watch - "Seven."

"Yes, let's."

They turned around and started back toward the stadium.

"So, what was it about that one patient?" she asked tentatively.

"It's hard to say... maybe he reminded me of my father, or a brother I never had. I couldn't tell you what it was, after thinking about him all these years. I'm sure you know how memories change over time. It could have even been his mother - or maybe she was his wife - some woman that was with him, who was very emotional about the whole ordeal."

"What was wrong?"

"With the man? Oh, that was the weird part - it was something common, Vanishing Sickness. Very ordinary, very treatable - yet we couldn't find a cure. There was an idea that he had an abnormal susceptibility to it, maybe a compromised immune system from a bad run-in with a dark creature or a cursed item, but we never found anything obvious when doing a background check. It's my thinking that he'd just waited too long to get treatment, and it got into his organs, and one day he lost something vital."

She grimaced again.

"I'm… sorry you had to experience that."

He shrugged.

"Thanks. I've made my peace with it. When losing people is a part of your job, you have to be prepared for it to happen, after all. Plus, it _was_ over four years ago."

They walked on, an occasional jogger going past.

"So... what are you trying to do with your research? I imagine it's something to do with the control and prevention of magical diseases, but what's your focus? I don't think you ever mentioned it."

"There isn't much of a focus to be honest. I'm trying a bunch of different things - ways to strengthen or boost the magical component of the immune system, ways to manage symptoms, ways to poke apart and determine the structure of curses and ailments. I've actually gotten a few tricks from Muggles - as you said, they've found some truly remarkable things about biology."

"And you're trying to do all of those things _in detail?_ That sounds like a _lot_ of work!"

"It is, but I'm pretty good about keeping things organized, and there's more crossover than you'd think."

"But still -"

"Don't worry, I do have my focus points. I know that if you go to broad you could spend years becoming an expert on something without ever making any worthwhile accomplishments; I've heard the horror stories and gotten the warnings."

She laughed - "Okay, good, it was sounding like you were committing blasphemy against the rules of research."

"Yep… most of the stuff I mentioned were multi-month endeavors a piece, with smaller projects making them up. I've had a few years doing it now. What I'm working on right now is Curse Disassembly, specifically of the old-magic variety, which I could go on all day about if i had time. Thankfully I've got a lot of material to work from - it was one of the most popular fields that came out of the Dark War."

"Ah, yes. That was an awful period of time."

"It was, but it's not like there weren't warnings for us."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, history, in a word. As soon as someone figures something out, somebody else comes along and figures out how to exploit it. Specifically, I'm thinking of the Muggle nuclear weapons programs, and the resulting Cold War. There's a lot of analogies that can be drawn between that period and the things You-Know-Who brought to light, and how they led to the Dark War, but... that's probably a conversation for another time. At the very least, I'm just glad that nothing happened anywhere near the scale of destruction the world experienced in the 1940s. _And_ that we managed to keep the Muggles out of it, yet again. That would have been…"

"A mess," Alice finished.

"To say the least."

Evan was certainly a man with interests - she didn't know much about the Muggle side of things in the 20th Century, but she had just as much of a fascination with the Dark War as anyone else and all the discoveries that'd come out of it. A decent amount of them had been alchemical, too.

Unanimously, they came to a stop. They'd arrived at the branch in the path by the Whomping Willow, the through-way going back to the greenhouses, and the other leading up to the North door, which was the most direct route to the Great Hall and breakfast.

"Aren't you coming in?" she asked.

"I would, but I've got a full day scheduled."

"Why don't you have breakfast first, then work after?"

He smiled. "I get antsy, i suppose, if i don't have a paper in front of me while I'm eating. I feel like I'm wasting valuable research time. That's why I prefer my office."

"I know just what you mean! But you have to come back down sometime. Weren't you trying to be more social?"

"You know, you're right. Maybe I'll come down for dinner - if not today, maybe tomorrow. I usually take a breather around that time. Or try to, at least."

"You should!"

"I'll try."

"You're not going in through North?"

"No, i think I'll head back to East, as it's closest to the Wing."

They looked out at the jogging track, which was now busy with people.

"Well, thanks for the walk, it was an… interesting conversation. Good getting to know you!" she said.

"Yeah, it was. Want to do it again sometime?"

"Sure!"

"When are you free next?"

"We could do tomorrow morning?"

"Tomorrow's busy for me."

"Wednesday?"

"Wednesday might be busy too… tell you what, I've got your tab now, how about I write you?"

"Works for me! Let's do it soon, it's easy to lose track of things with busy schedules."

"Very true. Well, I'll look at what I've got going on this week and I'll let you know. And I'll _try_ for soon."

They laughed.

"Well, until next time, Alice," he said, and waved as he backed down the path toward the joggers.

"Until next time, Mr. Escere!"

"Evan!"

She grinned, and they turned, parting ways. She went first through North and found her way to the Pearl, where she swapped clothes for her Professor's Uniform (pointy hat included), even though there weren't classes today - it was still good to keep up appearances, after all. She then entered the Great Hall with the throngs of students, meeting Wendy at their places. Down the table, she was surprised to find the Headmaster, robotically eating a small bowl of porridge with the ever-present vacant expression on her face.

Wendy immediately started talking to her about the toad terrariums she'd ordered for her first-years, and the troubles she was having about figuring out where to store them, forgetting to ask about Alice's walk with Evan. But Alice hadn't expected her to remember, and enjoyed listening to her predicaments as always.

About halfway through breakfast (she was having a waffle with blueberries and a scoop of rather bland, hand-whipped cream), she pulled out her writer to check her messages, and saw Evan's writing there on their barely-started page:

 _Saturday?_

She smiled.

 _Saturday._


	25. The Paper Man

The top of the tower was large, rectangular, and centered above the main body of Hogwarts Castle, with low stone ramparts providing a protective barrier around the working area. Dim red lamps had been scattered over the ground to provide light, but only just enough for people not to trip over each other's robes. If you were to lean out over the side and look down, Hogwarts would almost look like a city, each of its windows, hallways, and courtyards illuminated by individual torches, with the most notable exception being the lack of any cars or foot traffic. Occasionally you might see a caretaker passing by with a mop or broom, or a lonely ghost coming in and out of sight as it went behind columns and walls, but for the most part, all was silent.

This was partly due to the magically-enchanted shroud that blocked out the light and noise from coming up and interfering with the activities on the top of the tower. It worked so well, that if you were far enough immersed in your work, you might just be able to forget Hogwarts was there at all. It wouldn't work if you deliberately went looking out over the ramparts, of course, but if you stayed within the designated area, it did the job just fine.

It was nearly midnight. The first-years of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw houses had been summoned from their cozy common rooms and made to march through the castle, up stone stairwells and past open windows that stole away their warmth, until they'd finally emerged at the designated meeting point. They were now queued up before a table that reminded Nathaniel of the ones you might see at a medium-scale auction - set off to the side, and offering an array of buttery spanakopita or caprese skewers as finger food for the attendees. This one just featured a single cauldron and what were probably sixty stone goblets, if he had figured the amount of students right.

They moved steadily forward, one-by-one, to receive a ladle-full of potion from one of the Astronomy Professors, then went off and found a spot to park their telescopes. When it was time for Nathaniel's turn, his reluctance spiked - he'd been picturing something like the pumpkin juice they were so fond of, but the potion that drooped into his goblet was as close to that as… well, there might not have been an adequate comparison for it. The substance was dark, creamy, and had a sort of cloudy sheen on its surface, as though oily. Sometimes, something red or orange would gleam as it shot through its depths, reminding him of the sparks from a fire, which was all the stranger if the potion was supposed to be one consistency without any odd lumps or undissolved ingredients. It was as though someone had taken an idea, or abstract concept, or some sort of magical spell and liquified it - which might have been exactly what happened, as far a he knew.

"Come on now dearie, drink up," said the Astronomy Professor. (Docherty, if he remembered right.)

And that was another thing - adults weren't supposed to give kids things to drink. He didn't know why, but that was how it was. He'd never gotten anything from any of his teachers at his preparatory schools, and if there was ever an event or something, he'd at least had to _pay_ for it, and the option of whether or not to actually consume it. He'd probably have that option here too, of course, if he went and made a fuss, but that would go against everything his father wanted for him. He was in magic school. He was around magic people. He was within an entirely different culture, and he couldn't start questioning everything and trying to disrupt their way if life, at least not until he knew what he was doing. Plus, everyone else was doing it.

Nathaniel drank.

Once it was down, he coughed, just like the people before him. It had a smooth and light texting, but left his mouth dry and throat slightly burned, as though he'd inhaled a load of hot air.

"The dryness will go away in a minute, dear. Leave your cup and go find a spot, and try to stay at least four feet away from other people."

Swallowing to hold back more coughing, he dropped his goblet by the rest of the empties, tucked his telescope under his arm, and went out amidst the red lanterns and dark bodies. He decided to make his way toward the edge, where it would be easier for him to keep his bearings, but suddenly saw a fellow Hufflepuff from his Wizardry 101 class and stopped.

"Hello," he said.

The girl looked up at him and took a second to make out his face in the darkness.

"You're the white-haired boy with the funny last name," she said. "Starts with a Z, right?"

"Nathaniel Zoldik," he said, and held out a hand, but she didn't see it.

"I'm Maria García."

"Hey, you've got a funny name too."

"How so?"

"It rhymes."

"Oh," she laughed. "You should hear what some of my friends call me. Maria García Que Come Sandia!"

"I… don't speak Spanish."

"Maria García who eats watermelon," she translated. "My full name is Maria García Cajode-Sedilla, so it's kind of asking for it. Wanna partner?"

"Can we do partners?"

"They didn't say we couldn't."

That was true, technically… "Sure. Do you know how to set these up?"

"Yeah, it's not hard."

Maria showed Nathaniel how to extend and retract the tripod legs, swap between lenses (which she herself was still learning, she admitted), and secure the main body of the telescope at whatever angle you wanted. As they worked, Nathaniel noticed three small girls in hijabs watching them, who they went to help afterward to many thank-yous. Eventually the other Astronomy Professor (Professor Sutton) came around and had them return to their own telescopes, then get their supplies out for making notes.

"How are we supposed to see our work?" Nathaniel asked.

By way of response, Professor Sutton tapped the small red lamp next to them with the tip of her boot.

"There's an alteration of the _Lumos_ spell you can learn for low-lighting, but for now, these should do. Don't use _Lumos_ if you know it, it will wreck both your eyesight and those of the people around you. And keep your writers shut, Luminous Pages are even worse. Another lamp can be conjured up if need be, simply come to us and ask. Are your telescopes ready?"

Professor Sutton showed them a better technique for managing their lenses, then walked on and he and Maria arranged their things on the ground in the red light.

"You're using a pen?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yeah, quills are obnoxious."

He hesitated a moment, then took his own pens and pencils out too. There were times to practice your proficiency with wizard-writing tools, but working in semi-darkness where delicacy might be required wasn't one of them.

A minute later, the lesson began, and everyone looked upward. The night sky was marbled with dark clouds, but their shapes amplified the stars between them, and Nathaniel couldn't remember the last time he'd seen anything so brilliant. Unchallenged by the light of a moon, the points of light were unnaturally bright next to any of those he knew from the city. There must have been a thousand more of them, too, if not a million - off to the side, the dusty ribbon of the Milky Way stretched over the horizon, which was something he'd never seen before off of his laptop. Its sight almost made his heart hurt by how _big_ it was, how big everything was, and how small they were, here on this little tower, guarded only by the clouds. If the Professors hadn't said so, he'd have thought there was some magical enchantment to make everything more astounding or spell-binding than normal, like something you'd see in a fantasy painting. But this… it was just the raw, unaltered beauty of the stars, that could be seen anywhere in the world, if you went far enough away from cities and electricity.

They worked for an hour, going back and forth between their telescopes and parchment, making notes on what constellations they saw and where they were in relation to one another. A good amount of time was spent just looking at it, appreciating its sight, and it was in these moments that he and Maria pointed things out to one another, or talked about what classes they liked, or answered the questions of nearby students if they happened to know and the Professors weren't around. They were silent a lot, too, for you couldn't help but fall quiet with the stars how they were. Every now and then, Maria would share something from her life, and Nathaniel would listen, experiencing one of the rare moments when he felt completely immersed in the world around him.

It was nice talking about things, in a way - although he and Maria had very little in common, the world of magic had still come as a shock to both of them. It was pretty unsettling to have an entire new mode of existence thrust upon you, and the old one entirely stripped away. It was amazing, brilliant, fantastic, every day bringing new wonders and things they'd never thought possible, but with all the elation in their hearts, there was a sense loss too.

Maria had her entire family back home. Even though she could still see them and talk to them as often as she liked, there was no denying something would be different now. She was on a journey that nobody could join her on, doing crazy, wonderful new things, and her mother and father and brothers and sisters couldn't come with her.

Late in the lesson, a moment passed where the talking quieted to soft mutterings, and little other noise came outside of the movement of cloaks, or scratching of quills and pens on parchment, or the little metallic noises from telescopes adjustments. People stood as shadows, everyone looking upward in the darkness, the stars shining down through the dark shapes of the clouds.

"Ah, I miss my friends," Maria whispered.

* * *

It always seemed like everyone had their own things going on. There wasn't anyone he knew that didn't have some show they were watching, or people they always hung out with, or projects they were working on. Everyone was always _doing_ things. His father was always at work (or thinking about it), his mother was always thinking about his _father_ (and working herself), and Hass and Reynolds and the other staff of their home… they had their own lives, and couldn't be talked to without it coming back formal. Sure, sometimes Hass would contribute a few gruff words to a conversation, but it was never much. Sometimes Sensei would notice things about him - _Nathaniel, you seem stressed, Nathaniel, you are distracted, Nathaniel, you must focus,_ but whenever he tried to say anything, Sensei would shut it down. _Nathaniel, we must work. Now is the time to practice your defense, talking can come later._

But there never was a later. People always talked like there would be, but people were busy, and low-priority tasks got buried and forgotten. He understood that. He didn't expect his teachers or friends to know his name beyond "Mr. Zoldik", because asking them to take more time out of the day to memorize minor details would be unreasonable. Nathaniel didn't want to bother anyone, or make anyone's life more strenuous. The people that _wanted_ to stay and be friends would, and everyone else would go on with their own things. Like Chase and Edgar - they'd talked to him a few times about their game systems, and asked him what other forms of non-magical entertainment there were, and he told them, then they went back to talking with themselves. Kids did that at his old school, too. Eventually, you just had to realize that not everyone would stick around forever. So Nathaniel didn't expect them to.

And that was fine. Really. He had his own things, just like everyone did. He had his shows, his PDFs, his internet forums, places where he could go online that showed him all the fantastic and incredible things in the world, and provided a never-ending supply of users for him to interact with and conversations to read over. Or at least he did, before coming to Hogwarts. But even now, he still had his books, and the stories they contained. He had his imagination. So even if it was hard being without the internet, he was okay. And besides, there were lots of books at Hogwarts too.

So Nathaniel couldn't relate to Maria in a lot of ways. After their astronomy lesson, he'd thought about the kind of person she was and life she must've come from, and realized things were probably a lot easier for him. He wasn't used to being surrounded by people, or having the type of family she had, so there was probably less of an adjustment.

He'd tried waiting for her that morning to check on her, after doing his push-ups and crunches and tidying up his uniform, but he'd missed her. Of course, he'd missed just about everyone else too, having come to take things more slowly. At that very moment, in fact, if not for one other person, he might've been the last one left in the common room.

"Running late again, are we, young Hufflepuff?" asked a kindly, ghostly voice.

"Morning, Friar."

"Good morning, my son. Still not sleeping well?"

"Just taking things slow. I figure, if breakfast lasts an hour and a half, and you only need about ten minutes to eat, why rush things?"

"Oh, come now, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" the Friar exclaimed. "It's important to take your time with it. Eating too fast can be trouble for your stomach, and besides - eating is one of life's greatest pleasures! It's something worth enjoying!" he guffawed, and patted his belly.

Nathaniel smiled, and he and the Friar entered the hallway outside the common room, the big stone door rolling shut behind them.

"Remind me of your name again, my son? I know you've told me on previous trips, but I've become terribly poor at remembering things in my death!"

"It's... no trouble. Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel? Very well, then! And why is it, if I may ask, don't you do things at the same pace as your peers? Not that I don't mind the company, of course! But it's always good to surround oneself with those their age, particularly at school."

"Oh, I do - there's plenty of time throughout the day. I talk with them in my classes, and at lunch and dinner. I think I just prefer quiet mornings. Plus, I have my routine."

"I see! Well, do what you find comfortable, just so long as you aren't by yourself all the time! It's important to make friends after all!"

"My father tells me the same thing. I don't have any trouble making friends, though."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, I made one just last night, in fact, during Astronomy."

"That's jolly good to hear! What sorts of things do you share?"

"Well, we're both Muggle-born."

"I see! Anything else? What about your interests?"

"Well…"

However, before he could think of a reply, a clanking sound started coming from the wall ahead of them.

"Here he comes," Nathaniel said.

The Friar looked at him quizzically, but sure enough, the knight with the arrow sticking out of his head came stomping through the wall. Nathaniel watched with amusement as the scene played out the same as it had a number of times before.

"Friar!"

"Good morning, my dear knight!"

"Have you seen Sir Gommersworth?"

"Not at all!"

"He didn't show up for our meeting, again! We've met at the same time, same location, for two centuries now, and all of a sudden he's stopped coming!"

"Perhaps he's fancied a change of pace?"

"Mighty rude of him, if you ask me, not to say anything! When I find him, I'm going to give him a good bash over the helm!"

"I shall keep an eye out, but as always, practice forgiveness, my son!"

But, as always, the knight had already stomped off through the next wall, grumbling to himself, and wasn't likely to have heard.

"That poor man," said the Friar.

"He says the same thing every time."

"Does he indeed?"

"Why can't he find him? Surely he knows where else Sir Gommersworth likes to go?"

"Well, if I were to hazard a guess, I'd say he doesn't look for very long. We ghosts have our routines, too, and we like to stick to them!"

"So… you change one thing in your routine, and you miss everything about it from then onward?"

"That's usually how it goes!"

That seemed… silly. If you only saw a person during one particular activity, then you would never see them again if you stopped doing it. Sure, it happened all the time for things like seeing a particular cashier at the grocery store, but that wasn't the case for the majority of things. People liked to keep in contact, didn't they? They missed each other when they were gone. It wasn't usual for someone to drop something, or someone, out of their lives, and never see them again, at least if there was any truth to the TV shows and movies he watched. But... ghosts were different creatures, maybe. And, every so often, things like that _did_ happen to some degree, when somebody moved, or closed out a social network account, or… went to boarding school. Nathaniel thought of Maria and her family. Whenever there were big life changes, it got harder to keep in contact, and there were always some losses along the way.

"Friar…"

"Yes, my son?"

"Why is the magical world kept secret from non-wizards?"

The Friar looked down at him in surprise.

"I mean, I've heard of the International Statute of Secrecy," he went on, "but why did it come about? Why keep people separate?"

"That's a rather odd question, and not one easy to answer" he said. "May I ask what made you think of it?"

"The knight, just now. That friend from Astronomy is having a hard time adjusting to things, being without her family and friends."

"Ah. So, like the knight, she's feeling lonely, and is out to give someone a good bash over the helm?"

"Er, no," Nathaniel said, and they laughed.

"Well, it's not something I know much about, to be honest!" The Friar said. "The Statute of Secrecy was a bit after my time, you see. All I can say is, Muggle and Wizard relations have always been a bit strained, sorry to say..."

"Because of the balance of power?"

"Because of fear, my child. You must understand, that as many witches and wizards as there are, there are far more of our non-magical brethren. If ever someone happens to find themselves in a minority, they are likely to be turned scapegoat for the more unpleasant things in life."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, misfortune. Illness. People making poor choices, and wishing for someone to blame. Too often is it oneself that needs adjustment, rather than the world around them."

"I can understand that. My father knows of a good deal of people who fail due to a lacking ambition, or poor work ethic, and don't see how to correct themselves."

"Your father must be a wise man! But, I hope he leaves room for relaxation and enjoyment every now and then?"

"I think work is his idea of enjoyment."

"But not you?"

"I'm… not sure."

"That's not unusual! You are young, and there's plenty of time for you to find your purpose in life. For some it is work, for others learning, and others still it is triumph. Then there are those who strive for love and compassion, to keep humanity tied together. All are perfectly reasonable ways of life."

Nathaniel nodded, but didn't say anything.

"In any case, I believe we went into hiding for the same reason anyone does: to protect ourselves."

"Protect yourselves? Why would you need to do that, if you have magic?"

"Well… there's not always much one can do, you see. If all you know are simple gardening charms, it's rather hard to defend yourself from a mob of frightened townspeople."

Nathaniel grimaced.

"I'm... sorry, my son. I didn't mean to put unpleasant scenes in your mind."

"No, it's okay, it's what I asked. So, the magical community went into hiding a long time ago, and things have stayed the same ever since?"

"I believe so."

"Even though there's a Ministry of Magic now, and departments suited for Wizard-Muggle relations?"

"Those are _also_ things that came after my time, unfortunately. Do _you_ think that Muggles and Wizards could coexist?"

Nathaniel thought about it. First and foremost, introducing magic to the world would create a frenzy for technological advancement - it was one of the first things his father thought about, after all. You could burn a million liters of gasoline, or (maybe) say a few magical words, and get the same effect without any of the energy loss, at least relatively. A process operating off magical sources would immediately outstrip that off conventional means in no time. Then (and Nathaniel wasn't sure to what extent of intricacy magic could operate), if an eleven-year-old could change the color of a pebble without going through a rigorous chemical reaction process, it wasn't too hard to imagine an adult being able to extract a ton of pure iron from the earth without too much effort. Heck, if transfiguration was as powerful as it looked, you could probably make diamonds out of chips of wood in no time. And then, there was the application of weaponry, nanotechnology, medicine… what if wizards had a way to cure chronic illness? Rectify genetic disorders? Purge superbugs? And all that knowledge was still in print sources, so it was a finite resource that could be acquired and given a controlled distribution. There might even be magic capable of mind control, allowing for easy infiltration and steering of governments… Nathaniel didn't know _too_ much about the background operations of the world, at least next to his father, but he did know some things. And if the world caught wind of magic… it would be chaos.

"No," Nathaniel admitted. "Not immediately, and not easily."

The Friar sighed.

"I've long thought that must be the case, or it surely would have happened by now. It's most unfortunate. It's been a long-time hope of mine that someday peace will exist between all peoples, but there is much to work against, and not many who are willing. Humanity's history is not a pleasant one, sorry to say! But one must keep fighting the good fight, for as long as they are able.

"Back when I was alive, I certainly had no qualms against offering aid to those in need, regardless of their make. What's a simple healing charm, if it can give a sick child a fighting chance at the future? Of course, not everyone saw it that way. But I will say... if you are curious about Muggle and Wizard relations throughout history, why not ask your History professor? I'm sure Professor Binns would love to answer a question or two during office hours!"

"Professor Binns?"

"Why, yes!"

"The History of Magic professor is Professor Byron…?"

"Oh, that's right!" the Friar said, touching his forehead. "There I go again. My apologies, young Hufflepuff! It's easy to lose track of things, when the years go by as fast as they do."

"It's… no trouble."

They got to the stairway, and had to move a bit closer together under the arched ceiling. As always, Nathaniel felt the cool air that composed the Friar, and the odd sense of emptiness, as though there ought to be something there, but wasn't. From what he'd heard, most people found the proximity of a ghost to be unsettling, but for him, there was something relaxing about it. It reminded him of the cool air conditioning back in his room at home, where he had all his games and internet access and could live at his own pace.

"So, this Muggle-born from Astronomy," the Friar said. "You say she's having a hard time?"

"By the sounds of it."

"Well, as a member of Hufflepuff House, it is your sworn duty to be her friend, and make sure she feels right at place!"

"Haha, sure."

"Very good, then!" the Friar said jovially. "I wonder, do you have one of those magnificent notebooks people have taken to of late?"

"A writer? Sure," Nathaniel said, patting his pocket.

"Have you exchanged contact pages with her?"

"Er, no, I haven't, but that's a nice idea."

"Excellent, excellent! I've always loved seeing friendships blossom, and am always happy to help poke things in the right direction!"

Nathaniel smiled at the Friar's expression.

"That's one of the best things about sticking around," the Friar said happily. "You get to see all the marvelous developments in wizarding technology, and how they bring everyone together!"

They came to the Entry Hall, and the Friar nodded in a way that was meant as a bow.

"Well, God's blessings on you and the start of your friendship, my son!"

"Are you off to your window?"

"Indeed! The sun should just be hitting the lake about now. It truly is a beautiful sight."

"Maybe I'll check it out sometime."

"You are always welcome, young Hufflepuff. But for now, eat, and be merry!"

And with that, the Friar drifted upward, gave a last wave, and disappeared through the beams in the ceiling.

Nathaniel turned to the open doors of the Great Hall, and with a sigh, entered. Not for the first time, he passed a longing eye over the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Hufflepuff was right next to Gryffindor, and there were more than a handful of them that were morning people. They were up and down for the entire duration of the meal, constantly arriving late or leaving early, or even eating while _standing_ in the aisleways. Nathaniel always sat with his back to them - that much movement was enough to make anyone's meal unpleasant.

Spotting Maria, Nathaniel went over. However, right as he went to pull his writer out of his pocket, he felt the Paper Man move and he hesitated - perhaps breakfast wasn't the best time? What if, like him, she preferred a quieter start to the mornings? She certainly seemed to be preoccupied with her food, from where he stood. After their first class would undoubtedly be better, once they'd both had a chance to wake up a little… he certainly didn't want to add to the clamor, if it was as bothersome to her as him.

Removing himself from the walkway, Nathaniel sat down at a nearby spot. He had a slight feeling of guilt, thinking of what the Friar would have thought, but if his father had taught him anything introducing yourself to a potential contact was a delicate matter. It had to be done in the right moment, and that moment probably wasn't when you were trying to eat. And besides... they had all day together. They were in all the same classes.

Nathaniel spooned some jam on a biscuit and ate.

He let his mind wander to what life might've been like back in the Friar's day, around a thousand years ago.

In his pocket, the Paper Man settled.


	26. The Paper Man (Part 2)

There was a sudden movement, and Nathaniel looked upward. A flock of large birds had erupted from a single point high on the wall, their shapes dark against the bright September sky. In the span of a few moments, Nathaniel's mind went from _huh, that's cool_ , to _Wait - that sky is artificial, we're indoors, this a dining hall; large, predatory birds are coming in with (possibly) bits of rodent stuck in their talons, how is this place still operational, do wizards even have health-code violations?_

It was the morning post, and a regular occurance, one of which Nathaniel was still bewildered by. Apparently, there _were_ no health-code standards when it came to introducing animals into an eating area. _Apparently_ , this sort of thing was perfectly permissible. That said, it _had_ been going on long enough without incident, so maybe there was reason to not bother putting up restrictions for it. Maybe magical owls were different, and special charms had been put in place to make the whole thing... sanitary. Hopefully.

Nathaniel let it slide (like he had done for this and a thousand other things) and looked down to the Head Table, where sat Professor Byron, who was reading a copy of the wizarding newspaper with Professor Smith beside him. Should he ask about the lead-up to the Statute of Secrecy? It would be good information to know, not just because of how it created a division between Muggle-borns and their families like Maria, but to find out what sorts of rules and regulations there were for sharing information with non-magical family members, and their subsequent interactions with the larger world. At least, that would be the kind his father was interested in.

Speaking of which - Nathaniel looked back up at the swarm of owls - he had written home a few days ago, about things like the House Points system, the Hufflepuff dormitories, and some of his experiences so far (just to give his parents an update, which he felt was probably appropriate in this kind of situation). He ought to be getting a reply soon - he hadn't yesterday, but maybe today he would.

As if on cue, a large, steel-gray owl swooped down toward him from the window, did a circle as it looked for him, then came down and landed solidly right next to his breakfast. It was Ferrous.

The owl had gotten a few upgrades: it was now wearing what looked like socks, fashioned out of an ultra-light and undoubtedly wear-resistant material, its sharp talons jutting through the end of each toe. The socks had metallic bands near the ankle-joint, probably securing them in place, but they were thick enough that they might've had another purpose. It was also wearing a harness of sorts, which on closer inspection (Nathaniel moved his plate aside as the owl came up and presented its back) appeared to be a _backpack_ , custom-made and well-fit below its wings.

Carefully unzipping the zipper (Ferrous's head revolved back and forth to glare at him and the other children nearby), Nathaniel extracted an envelope, which was inexplicably unwrinkled. Had his father found someone to put some sort of… space-folding spell on the pack, to make the inside larger?

Ferrous turned around once more (Nathaniel moving his plate out of the way again), and looked at him expectantly. That's right... he was supposed to give it a return letter, or an order, and _hope_ that it would somehow understand.

"Um, stay around Hogwarts. I'll have a reply for you…" he thought for a moment - "before dinner. Er… meet back here then? Does that work? Do you… does that make sense?"

Ferrous gave a curt hoot and walked to the edge of the table, where it spread its massive wings (Nathaniel leaned backward) and after a few heavy beats, took off and left back through the window.

"Nice owl," an upper-year boy said. "Did it have a backpack?"

"Er, yes. And thanks."

Nathaniel slit the envelope with a finger and pulled out the letter. It was typed like a memo and printed on the high-quality, polymer-infused paper from their home; his father's watermark visible as he held it there. Sure enough, it had been his father who'd written it.

 _Nathaniel -_

 _I'm glad to see your practicing with quills and parchment. This is a great opportunity to stylize your penmanship, and start working on your signature! I've even been writing a few letters by hand myself, to help make things easier when dealing with wizardkind._

 _In your letter, you mentioned a number of potential resources that I hope you've begun thinking of ways to utilize. This "wizardry 101" class should be particularly useful, in that it will allow you to ask all the important questions without drawing attention to your non-magical upbringing. Be sure to capitalize on it as much as possible, so you don't emphasize the differences between yourself and the rest of your peers in your other activities. That said, as you correctly guessed, you will still need to do much observation and practicing on your own time. Perhaps studying people and their mannerisms will be a good way to avoid that "distracted" quality some of your advisors have noted! As a matter of importance, this quality should be given highest priority, particularly now that there are so many new opportunities ahead of us. The counseling and advising services at Hogwarts are limited, but I will gladly pay for a private -_

Nathaniel broke and skimmed down the letter, looking for something he hadn't been lectured on a thousand times. He almost stopped reading entirely, until something in the last few paragraphs caught his eye.

 _\- When you send your reply, simply insert the letter into the same pouch you withdrew this from. I've had it custom-engineered by ornithologists who specialize in this sort of thing, then magically enchanted to have an extra-large capacity! The delegate I hired from the Magical Ministry has been enormously useful to me, though that's not to say I'm not keeping my options open. I managed to get the enchantment for the price of a cigar! These people have no idea how valuable their abilities are, I guarantee you that._

 _Another item of note - I've had boots made for the owl featuring state-of-the-art fabric, as a means of both protection and tracking. The metal bands contain transmitters and rudimentary magic-sensors, so the owl's location should be discernable at any time. Obviously, the backpack will radiate a constant background level, but this is easily worked around._

 _See if you can find anyone with those names I mentioned. Put the work in. These years are foundational to your success._

 _Your mother sends her love._

 _Father_

Nathaniel stared at the scanned-and-printed zigzagging of his father's signature that came standard with every email, and wondered how long ago he'd written the original. What wizards out there were getting to see the real one, right now?

He couldn't remember the last time his father had said so much to him. It was usually just a few half-minded pieces of advice of whatever he felt the need to talk about. In fact, his wording reminded him more of how he spoke to clients, or his work associates, when they were in casual settings - excited, scattered, boastful. That last paragraph was particularly strange - why talk about Ferrous's boots? Why mention the tracking device? Was he concerned about Ferrous getting intercepted, and had written the paragraph as a warning to whatever would-be interceptor that read it, rather than for him?

Nathaniel pushed the letter away, thinking. Just how far was his father getting involved in the world of magic? Would the Zoldik name soon become known by his professors here too, and his celebrity status as the child of a wealthy family be renewed? Well... if it did, at least he wouldn't have to bother with all this socializing business.

Half of him felt the need to go back and read the parts he'd skipped - he knew he should, it was well over half. But he _really_ didn't feel like it right now. And he had all day to read it, really.

As if making the decision for him, the Paper Man heaved itself out of his pocket, clambered onto the letter, and started playing with the third of the page that was uplifted by crease, as though curious. Watching it, Nathaniel saw his father's watermark for a second as the Paper Man's head caught in the artificial sunlight.

* * *

"How about over there?" Jarod asked softly, pointing to a narrow table wedged between two towering shelves of books. It would be tight, but looked private enough.

Nathaniel nodded, and the three of them made their way over. They squeezed behind the chairs, clutching their bags to their chests and slid down into the seats. Nathaniel and Maria had both decided to get the Wizardry 101 homework out of the way as quickly as possible after hearing Patty Havermire's story during lecture - when she'd worked through hers the previous evening, she'd been teased and bullied, which was something they were keen not to experience. Jarod, who thought they had the right idea (and had overheard), asked to join them, and so they agreed to go to the library after classes. At the time, they'd thought Professor Byron was going to reprimand Taylor for not helping Patty, but instead he'd just nodded and said it was to be expected - the most advice he offered was simply to not let them see you doing it.

"I bet nobody's going to find us here," Jarod said, unpacking his things.

Nathaniel's face remained passive. He didn't like the idea of having to hide away every time he worked on Wizardry homework, and was certainly going to try and come up with a strategy to not do it in the future.

Maria seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Maybe we'll get assignments that don't have pictures and it'll be harder to notice," she said hopefully.

"I don't think I'll be hiding away even if we do have more," stated Nathaniel. "I can handle the teasing. I just don't want people to disrupt my work."

"What would you have done if it was you then, instead of Patty?"

"I wouldn't have let it happen in the first place. She said she did her work right in the middle of her common room, in plain view of everyone in Slytherin. She pretty much put up a sign that said, 'Hey, I'm a Muggle-born'. She should've thought about it for a second before doing it."

"But what if you were already in the situation?" she pressed. "What if people had already seen you, and it couldn't be helped?"

"Then I'd keep my responses minimal. One word answers. That way, they'd lose interest, hopefully. And if they kept at it, I'd reverse the roles. Ask them why they were interested in my homework, what they were doing here, why they wanted to spend their time talking to me, that kind of thing. And if they didn't give up, I'd pack my things and head somewhere else."

"You'd run away?" asked Jarod.

Nathaniel sighed.

"I'd just leave. If I go, I can get my homework done and only lose a couple of minutes. If I stayed and made a scene, it would take more time, and put myself _and_ my things at risk of being mistreated."

Jarod frowned, not sure how to respond.

"But I like Maria's idea. If they don't notice, they won't try anything. We can keep the photos out of sight when we're not using them, and if there _are_ more assignments with them, then they won't be able to tell. That way we won't have to hide. Besides, I doubt there's too many ex-Slytherins in Hufflepuff; it doesn't really seem like the two types of people are particularly interchangeable."

"But it's not just Slytherins that hate Muggle-borns," Maria said.

Nathaniel shrugged. That was true, but the difference between Slytherin and the rest of the school was big enough for everyone else to be neglected, at least from his perspective.

"I don't know _why_ Slytherins hate Muggle-borns so much," Jarod grumbled.

"Maybe, er… Blood Purism?" guessed Maria.

"I don't know," said Nathaniel. "Blood purity got disproven a few decades ago, didn't it?"

"Maybe there's still some Purists out there? And they passed down their ideas and prejudices or whatever to their kids?"

"Maybe…" said Nathaniel, but he was still doubtful. If anyone continued to have old-fashioned beliefs after decades of a new understanding, they'd probably have to be isolated from the rest of the population in order to not be influenced. And if they had children that were actively attending Hogwarts generation after generation, that probably wasn't the case.

He pulled out a roll of parchment, a quill (all his pens were carefully stowed in his trunk), and his assigned photo of the man on his phone, with his daughter playing in the middle of the walkway. They had been set to do a write-up, identifying three things that were wrong with their pictures, describe why those things _were_ wrong, say what could be done differently, and finally give at least one reason why the people were doing them in the first place, with more reasons earning them a chance at bonus points. Professor Byron had assigned a minimum of six inches on lined parchment.

They got to work. Nathaniel let the Paper Man walk around idly on the table, much to the amusement of Maria and Jarod. It was unobtrusive enough, sticking to touching unused quills or looking into the contents of Nathaniel's bag. However, not even five minutes in, Jarod decided to interrupt things.

"So, what did that house-elf want?"

It had been directed at Maria - "Which one?" she asked.

"The one that called you out of lecture."

"Oh, it was for check-ups, like Professor Byron said."

"Ah, right!"

Only three girls had gone, the first being Heather Cole, and the second one of the giggling girls, Kate French.

"What were they checking on?"

"Just, usual stuff… verifying health records, asking about allergies. When do you guys think you'll be called up?"

"I'll be last," said Nathaniel.

"That's right! Mr. Zoldik, the boy with the 'Z'!" she teased.

"Well I won't be too far before you, I'm a 'W'," said Jarod.

"W? Are you Weasley?"

" _Weasley?_ That's a funny name! It's Winston. Where'd you get _Weasley?_ "

"Not sure… I must have read it somewhere." Where _had_ he gotten Weasley?

They went back to their work. Every time someone went past their hideaway, Maria and Jarod looked up, which Nathaniel found annoying. Not only was it unlikely for someone to see the photos this far into the aisle, but it was also distracting, and created a slight tension in the air. He hoped they'd stop once enough time had passed, but unfortunately, something else happened.

"Hey."

A large, upper-year Ravenclaw boy ( _third-year?_ Nathaniel guessed) was looking in at the three of them, his friend right behind him, but after they saw the things on their table they left without another word.

"What was that about?" Maria wondered.

The next second, they knew. From the other side of the books in the aisleway adjacent to theirs, the voices of the two third-years came through, as well as that of a third, younger boy.

"Hey. We need that book."

"I'm using it."

"You can have it once we're finished."

"No -!" but there was a scuffle, then silence. If Nathaniel were to guess, the two third-years had just stolen the book from the younger boy and sat down to use it, the younger boy now sitting there fuming in silence. The three of them shared a glance, tension rising.

"Hey, I need it back," the boy said, a minute later, to no response.

"Hey -"

"You'll get it when we're done, now shut it."

The silence stretched. After a few minutes, the three of them got back to work, quills scratching hesitantly. Nathaniel's attention was still fully on the situation on the other side of the book shelves, which sat heavy in the air. Even the Paper Man seemed to be listening, having come to a stop in its wanderings, standing stock-still next to his arm.

"Give it back," the boy tried again.

"No, and if you ask one more time, you're getting _Silencio_ -d."

A minute passed, and suddenly Nathaniel heard movement.

" _Silencio."_

But the boy hadn't spoken -

"Aw, is wittle Stowks running away?" teased the voice of the other third-year.

The shuffling sounds continued. Then, a second later -

"Hey, you little shit!"

The boy was speeding off to the library's exit, bag shouldered and book stolen back.

"Voices down in the library, please," called the librarian, not looking up.

A second later, the two third-years took off after the boy, and Nathaniel stood, pulse thumping. If he had any idea of how these things went, that boy was about to get a beating.

"What are you doing?" Maria whispered.

Nathaniel looked at her, then at the Paper Man, who was tugging on his robes, as though trying to get him to sit.

He had to do something, he knew he did. He might not _want_ to, but if he could stop somebody from getting themselves beat up, he had to at least try. But there was a huge part of him that _did_ want to just sit back down, and let the situation resolve itself - he didn't _need_ to get involved.

Maybe the third-years would take the book back, and that'd be it. And even if they threw a punch or two - people got beaten up all the time. What was one more person? It wasn't _his_ fault, it wasn't _his_ responsibility. The only thing that was different was that he knew it was happening, and just knowing about it didn't mean he had to become involved.

He saw it playing out in his mind's eye. He saw the boy taking a punch to the gut, dropping the book, and the third-years grabbing it and leaving. Or - what if the boy fought back, and it was worse? What if he got punched once, twice, dropped to the ground, kicked - every step was something he could've stopped, that wouldn't have happened if he was just _there_ and had said something.

He might not even need to do much. He didn't need to start casting hexes or anything, or get into a full-blown back-and-forth like he had with Goyle and Vinn. All he'd have to do is just _say_ something. He'd stopped people before at his old school, made them check themselves. But… he'd had status then, and people listened to him. They respected him, because they knew the Zoldik family, and who he was. Here… he was just another person.

"There's nothing you can do," Jarod said. "Just… let them sort it out."

Nathaniel looked at him, and Jarod went to his parchment. In that moment, Nathaniel realized he didn't care for Jarod much, and that if he just let this go, he knew he'd regret it.

Forcing his way out of their study nook, he sped across the library ("Walking only in the library, please,") and went through the doors. The hallway was a light, yellow marble, undecorated, and completely empty.

He stared at the evening sunlight coming in through the windows - where had they gone? Putting himself in the mindset of someone fleeing a pair of bullies, he set off toward the main hallway, listening carefully. He passed a pair of upper-year girls, who were talking much too animatedly to have seen anything troubling, and just as he got to a branch, heard a pained grunt coming from down the right corridor. Hurrying, he went along it, taking two more corners, then skidded to a halt.

The two third-years looked up at his arrival. He couldn't tell what they'd been doing just a second before. The younger boy was on the ground, sitting, knees and book clutched to his chest, the contents of his bag strewed around him. All three were Ravenclaws.

"Keep moving, Whitey," said one of the third-years.

Nathaniel took a step forward. "What are you doing?"

The other third-year drew his wand - "He said, get out of here."

Nathaniel looked at the younger boy - "Are you alright?"

The boy didn't respond. Nathaniel's mind raced - what could he do to stop the situation? The older boys wanted the book, and for some stupid reason, the younger one just wouldn't give it to them.

He looked at the third-year's wand, thinking of his duel with Goyle and Vinn. Could he take on two third-years? He knew the odds weren't good, but he'd had some training, and maybe he could hold them off long enough for them to think it was more trouble than it was worth.

"Listen, piss off," said the first third-year, levelling his wand. "Last chance."

He _really_ didn't want to duel, the odds weren't good, and there was no cover. He had to change their focus and get them talking. If they got put out of fight-mode, maybe things would calm down.

"Is this about that book?" he tried.

" _Silencio._ _Levicorpus._ "

Nathaniel's ankle yanked out from under him and he was pulled into the air, his head cracking painfully on the floor. He shouted out, but he'd been silenced and nothing came out.

"I don't know what it _is_ with kids this days," the third-year fumed, stalking over.

All the blood had rushed to Nathaniel's head, and each pound of his heart made the pain spike terribly. If that wasn't enough, the third-year sunk his fist right into Nathaniel's stomach, and for what must have been a minute, he couldn't even draw breath.

"Were _we_ this bratty in our first year?"

Nathaniel watched them, upside-down, blood thumping in his head.

"You might've been."

"Har, har. Let's finish this."

However, right at that moment, Maria came around the corner and shrieked.

" _What are you doing?!_ "

" _Silencio, Levicorpus._ "

Maria was hoisted into the air alongside him, but managed to avoid getting her head cracked. Nathaniel's eyes widened.

"How do you like that?" the third-year huffed. "Those are fifth-year jinxes, kids! That'll teach you to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. And look at this -" he came over and studied them. Nathaniel saw a bead of sweat sliding down his head from the exertion.

"We got a couple of Hufflepuffs! How do you like that, Stokes?" he called at the younger boy. "Being rescued by a pair of 'Puffs! And are you kids firsties? Must be, or you'd have a better idea of how things go around here."

The third-year squatted down and grinned malevolently at Maria.

"Bad enough you come barging in on something that doesn't concern you, but you're in the oddball house with all the other rejects! Looks like Hogwarts doesn't want you either, huh?"

The oddball house? Was that really what Hufflepuff was? And they were Muggle-borns on top of that -

"Argh, you bitch!"

Maria, furious, had spat at the boy's face. Nathaniel watched in horror is he stood and kicked her, breaking her nose.

"No!"

"Shut it," the third-year said, and slugged him in the stomach again.

The air was forced out of his lungs again, and his vision almost went black from pain, but at the back of his mind he registered that the Silencing charm had worn off. That was something, at least. Not that it would do him much good at the moment - he could hardly breathe; his throat felt like it was swollen and stuffed full of socks, so calling for help definitely wasn't an option. What could he do? He was suspended in the air, incapable of moving or defending himself or Maria. How had they gotten into this mess so quickly? The boy had hardly given a warning before he'd attacked, but that was something he should have expected. He'd been trained for it!

As the boy went back to his partner, Nathaniel desperately looked around for any way out of the situation, trying to think of something he could use. His wand, which he'd stuck in his back-pocket, had dropped to the ground and rolled away, so that was gone. Directly below him was his writer, a bottled inkwell, his father's letter, and, as he looked around - _the Paper Man!_ It was standing right there, blank circle of a face looking at him, somehow having gone unnoticed by the third-years. Would it obey an order, if it was given one?

"Go - get - help," he grunted, weakly. The Paper Man cocked its head.

"Alright, let's get out of here," the other third-year said. "This doesn't look good."

"Yeah, fine - _Wingardium Leviosa._ "

The boy directed the spell at the book in the younger boy's arms, and as he powered it, it started to wriggle free from his grasp.

" _Go… get… help,"_ Nathaniel whispered hoarsely, and the Paper Man turned and started off.

"Careful, now," the other third-year cautioned, wagging a finger. "If that library book gets damaged, it'll be on your - _hey! Accio!_ "

Having caught sight of him, the Paper Man was tugged backwards across the floor. Nathaniel watched as it scrabbled desperately at the smooth marble, its stubby hands not making for any sort of grip.

"What is this? Some sort of paper-fairy-doll?"

The Paper Man slid to a stop next to the third-year, who grabbed it up and looked at it for a moment. It struggled in his hands, trying futilely to push itself free.

" _No,_ " Nathaniel said, but it caught in his throat and came out as little more than a strained moan.

"What, this yours?"

The third-year wrenched the Paper Man's top and bottom apart, ripping it in two and throwing the pieces to the floor, where they laid lifelessly. For good measure, he stomped on them and ground them around with his boot.

Next to him, the book finally popped out of the younger boy's grasp, and the other third-year caught it.

"Alright, let's get out of here."

They left. Nathaniel heard one of them kick his wand down the hallway, but there was no other trouble, and the next moment they were alone.

"- Maria?" Nathaniel grunted, still trying to breathe, blood pounding in his head as he continued dangling.

Thankfully, the third-year's spell ended right then and the two of them went crashing to the ground. Nathaniel let himself lay there, relieved that he wasn't upside-down anymore, and his breath slowly returned. He felt sweaty, he felt like he failed, but at least it hadn't been any worse. The remnants of the Paper Man were still laying there, now just dirty bits of unfurling paper. He felt a pang of regret, but it wasn't a huge loss - it had just been a toy, after all.

"...Maria?" he tried again.

He heaved himself up and looked at her. Blood was streaming from her nose, and her hair was a mess. She hadn't moved from the crumpled heap she was dropped in.


	27. The Paper Man (Part 3)

"Maria!" he rasped. "Maria!"

He pushed himself over and turned her onto her side. She was just unconscious, he knew, the sight no less disturbing - dark, bloody streaks ran down around her nose and mouth, and her hair spilled over her face like netting. Gingerly, he pushed her hair clear, and after noticing, covered her legs again with her skirt.

"She okay?"

The Ravenclaw boy was on his hands and knees, and watching them from the scattering of his bag.

"Please get her, a doctor," he breathed.

The boy's eyes darted to his stuff as though considering, and an odd surge of anger rose in Nathaniel's chest, but thankfully he got to his feet and went. A minute passed in which Nathaniel didn't know what to do with himself, then Maria groaned and came to.

"Whad… happened?"

"You've got a broken nose," he told her. "Don't touch it. Lean forward, and let it drain out the front."

"A broked _dose?"_ she asked, eyes widening.

"Relax. I think they can fix it magically, with no trouble."

"Whad happened?"

"They - the two third-years, or maybe fourth-years - got the book and left. They used a spell to pull us into the air. The one you spat on kicked you. You got knocked out."

She groaned and got to a sitting position, keeping herself leaned forward, and winced as she prodded her nose. She didn't look good, and that had all been because of him.

The Ravenclaw boy returned a minute later with the Librarian at his side, who summoned a house-elf by talking into his writer. One appeared the next second, one of the tiny, bat-eared, wrinkly, naked hominids in a tea-towel toga, coming around the corner as if it'd been there the whole time.

"Please take her to the Hospital Wing," commanded the librarian.

"Yes, sir!" it squeaked, and held out a hand.

Maria gave a last glances and took it, then disappeared with the creature in a shattering of dust. The Librarian looked from one of them to the other.

"Can anyone tell me what happened?"

The boy explained, and Nathaniel added his part.

"Are you going to tell me the names of the ones who did this?"

The boy hesitated, then shook his head.

Fury rose.

" _Why not?"_ Nathaniel demanded.

The boy have him a considering look.

"Wouldn't be smart. I'm sorry. They'll find out before the day's over, though, I guarantee you."

Nathaniel opened his mouth, but said nothing, caught between frustration and a begrudged understanding. The boy couldn't simply rat out the two older Ravenclaws, or he'd suffer for it from from the rest of his peers. If Maria had taken more of an injury - say, a broken arm, or something that she couldn't recover from as easily - it probably would've been okay to tell, but with her injuries were too minor. If he could to find out the names himself he'd definitely be telling _someone,_ but maybe the boy was right and they'd be found out regardless.

After a last check that everyone was okay the Librarian left, and Nathaniel slumped against the wall to watch the boy repack his things. They said nothing to each other. On top of his anger, Nathaniel felt humiliated, having not only failed to resolve the situation, but having got Maria hurt when she was a complete bystander. _And_ he'd put himself in jeopardy, which he'd been _trained_ to avoid.

Deciding to allow himself a minute, he sank to the floor and stared at the drops of blood on the marble floor. The events played over and over in his mind, and he kept trying to imagine what he could have done differently, or what he could have said to change the situation, but everything had happened to fast. Maybe the lesson was to simply not get involved in conflicts with people bigger than you.

His eyes went to the things that had dropped from his pocket, and he saw his father's letter laying there for all the world to read. He leaned forward and grabbed it, then fell back against the stone and stared at the typing, not even registering he was reading until almost halfway in.

\- _and of course, you must leave time for yourself. Find subjects you are interested in, the more the better! You'll need to narrow it down eventually to something you can make a career out of, but that can wait. Focus on what you like to do. Find what you're good at. I don't know what magical career fields are available just yet, but there's bound to be something you'll enjoy. This is your life, son! Nothing would make me happier than to see you make the most of it. I know I've not always seemed the most involved, but I do care about you, and I am proud of you. I'm sorry if i haven't said that in person. Who knows - maybe you'll even get into business like me! But if not, that's perfectly alright. Success can be made anywhere._

 _On that note, there are two important factors you should consider. Firstly, the largest component of success is the environment you're born in. For you, this has suddenly become a mixed bag - until I am able to get more involved in the governing systems of magical society and the Hogwarts school board, your main resources will be the family wealth, and your own character. Because there aren't many investing opportunities in school, the latter of these should be given the most focus. As such, investing yourself in the situations surrounding you should be given top priority, as mentioned earlier._

 _The second largest factor is your interpersonal network, and this does_ _not_ _mean whatever casual social media accounts you have. This is about the people you have business ties with, who you can use as resources, and they you in turn. Fostering cooperation and trust is an essential life skill, and one you can build upon as the years come. In whatever endeavor you involve yourself with, there will always be someone else working alongside you. Find these people, identify the ambitious ones, and success will come._

 _As it happens, my dealings with the Magical Ministry have provided me a small insight that could prove useful. We shall discuss more of this in the future, but for now, I shall simply say that there are a small number of old families that orchestrate the majority of the legislative decisions within wizarding society. Finding these families and making their acquaintance will pave the way for us in the future, and allow our family greater liberties once we are well enough involved. I have listed the surnames of the ones I've identified so far. If there are any children of these families at Hogwarts, try to make friends with them!_

 _Abbott. Bones. Cresswell. Flint. Greengrass. Potter. Shacklebolt. Weasley._

 _On a similar note, it may be prudent (for the time being) to avoid making friends with anyone who comes from a non-magical background. Their family status and competence within magical society is, understandably, limited. As such, surrounding oneself with more experienced individuals (such as the families i mentioned) will be a far better route to overcoming the learning curve, and therefore is the best option for all parties involved -_

"Hey."

Nathaniel looked up.

"This your wand?"

The boy was holding it out to him, having retrieved it from where it'd been kicked earlier. He seemed to be packed and leaving. Nathaniel took it.

The boy hesitated. "Thanks for… trying."

And then he walked off, leaving him alone in the hallway. He tried going back to his father's letter, but wasn't able to make himself start again. He'd read the bulk of it, anyways, at least judging from a quick skim. The entirety of it could be boiled down to just "pay attention / invest yourself" and "Ferrous can be tracked." At the very least, he now realized where he'd read "Weasley" before.

It wasn't until a custodian came around the corner with a mop bucket (probably containing some sort of biohazard-cleaning potion) that Nathaniel moved from his spot. He gathered up his writer, his inkwell, his father's letter, and the dirtied remnants of the Paper Man, then after a breath, made his way back to the library.

* * *

"What did they look like?"

"Third-year."

"Do you think you'd know them if they saw you again?"

"Maybe."

"And the Librarian didn't even _try_ to get the names from that boy?"

"Yep."

"And you're sure it was only a broken nose?"

"Probably."

Nathaniel waited, but thankfully Jarod didn't ask anything more and they made the rest of the way to the common room in silence. He watched as Jarod tapped out the rhythm on the barrels, then the two of them entered, Nathaniel heading immediately for the black armchairs and collapsing into one. After a moment's hesitation, Jarod went to a small table by the wall and got back to his homework. Nathaniel wondered if Jarod had been thinking about saying something, and was glad he didn't.

He sighed. Why did he feel so tired? The common room obviously hadn't been a good choice, as comfy as the armchairs were - students of every year were bustling around him, doing homework, talking, playing games. He just wanted to eat, go to bed, and get away from everyone. Maybe he'd just had too much socializing for the day.

"Um, Zoldik?"

A skinny girl with large glasses and blonde pigtails had come up to him. Nathaniel wondered for a moment why glasses were still a thing if magic existed, but he couldn't be bothered to ask.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Yaxley. Monica Yaxley."

"I thought you looked familiar. You were the surprise 'Y' during the Sorting."

Monica gave an uncertain smile, then stuck out her hand, a note held in it.

"Professor Donarko gave me this, he wants to see you."

The two fourth-years in the armchairs next to him paused and glanced his direction before going back to their conversation. Nathaniel took it, thanked her, and she went off.

 _Mr. Nathaniel Zoldik - please see me in my office._

 _Professor Donarko._

Great. Now he was going to sit through an unneeded lecture.

Wishing the punches he'd taken had left more of a physical indicator as to the state of his mood, he made himself get up from the armchair and leave the common room. The hallway was quiet, and he went in the opposite direction he normally took with the Friar in the mornings.

Professor Donarko's door was different from the warmth of the surroundings. It was heavy, black, and had "Professor Donte Donarko" written elegantly upon a placard in silver lettering. It reminded him of a cave, next to the light brickwork and pastoral paintings around it.

Suddenly, without him even touching the door, it flew open.

"Enter," a voice directed.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust. Professor Donarko was sitting at his desk, marking papers by the light of a single lamp. There were a few other light sources around the room, and from what he could tell, it seemed very much to be an ordinary office. There was nothing dingy or gross about it, like he was half expecting - the closest things were two glowing red jars on the shelves in the corner which appeared to contain entrails, and then what might have been a horse's skull, but everything else was folders, bookshelves, and posters. Although… some of the posters had disconcerting pentagram circles and cryptic symbols, but his subject _was_ the Dark Arts. But it was all very carefully arranged, and it seemed that no amount of sinister magics could combat the setup requirements demanded from bureaucratic duties.

"Sit."

Nathaniel sat. Professor Donarko had wild eyebrows and a sharp goatee, both of which were streaked through with gray, and reminded him of some sort of nighttime creature. Maybe even a badger, he thought, with a bizarre flare of humor that he wasn't sure where had come from. The paper under Professor Donarko's scrutiny was being marked quickly, words getting crossed out or circled in red, and large Xs eliminating entire paragraphs at once.

"Mr… Nathaniel Zoldik," he said, as he moved the paper to the 'done' pile. "First year, Muggle-born, wealthy background. Decent marks in mathematics and reading, lesser so in history. Described as studious and thoughtful by advisors and professors, though they meant distracted, reserved, and unsocial."

"How do you know that?"

"Certain individuals were given interviews before obliviation. One Mrs. Patricia Horinvathi, a Miss Zoe Elliotte, and a Mr. Charlie Simmons."

Those were two of his advisors and a professor from his old school.

"Obliviation?"

"A memory charm. It is neither damaging nor painful. Do you know why you are here?"

Nathaniel's pulse was thumping.

"Wizards can just go in, and extract information?"

"Yes."

"Are normal completely at their mercy, then?"

Professor Donarko paused and looked up at him.

"I see you are disturbed. Rest assured, such inquiries are kept at a minimum, and are bound by a number of regulations. Any abuse of power, or abuse of non-magical people in general, is a matter taken very seriously by the Ministry. The previous Minister of Magic was Muggle-born herself, and she was quite insistent upon the matter."

Well, that was good, he thought.

"I shall also tell you that I do not permit my students to speak freely," Professor Donarko continued. "You will address me with respect, and respond to the questions I ask or face disciplinary action. If you have a question yourself, I will be able to tell and acknowledge it if I choose to do so. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Another pause.

"Mr. Zoldik, explain to me why you are here."

Professor Donarko's eyes were small, but no less piercing. He felt like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk - he couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with such scrutiny.

"The incident earlier, with the Ravenclaws?"

"Almost." He sighed, and got to work on another paper. "What I'm concerned with is the process by which you make decisions, and the disregard you pay to those who are affected. Such as your friend."

"Maria?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Do not speak out, that is your final warning. Miss García is in good health, and will be back in the common room by the time we are finished. Now, what do you think was your largest error in the incident today?"

He thought for a moment.

"I got involved with something I couldn't handle."

"No. Not quite. There are many situations in life that are unwise to attempt resolving by oneself, and you do not always have the luxury of avoiding them, nor should you attempt to. With the training exercises I believe you had by one Mr. Gregorous Graves, you should have managed well enough in a fair fight. What you failed to do was involve yourself in the right way. How might you have gotten better involved?"

"I should have… talked to them earlier, before it escalated."

"No."

Something else, then. Nathaniel's mind sped, thinking of the different ways in which he could have handled the bullies, but nothing came to him. The simplest answer was he wasn't skilled or prepared enough to tackle the situation, but Professor Donarko didn't think he should have stayed out of it. What, then?

"Let's try something else," Professor Donarko said, X-ing out three paragraphs. "What were you trying to accomplish?"

"Stop the bullies from beating up that kid."

"And how does one stop bullies?"

"You talk to them. You make an appeal. Or overpower them, if diplomacy is impossible."

"Good. Now, why wouldn't a bully listen to one's appeal?"

"If the person is... weaker than them?"

"Was that a question?"

Nathaniel hesitated, then shook his head.

"Respond verbally."

"No, sir."

"Good. Physical weakness is not the issue. It is one of respect." The paper was moved to the done pile, and another was moved in. "If you have not earned a bully's respect, you cannot expect them to listen to what you have to say. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. So I shouldn't have gotten involved?"

"I did not give you leave to ask questions. One point from Hufflepuff."

Nathaniel's face flushed.

"As I said, you were not incorrect in involving yourself. You were incorrect in the _way_ you did it. There is a factor here you are missing, Mr. Zoldik, and seeing as it hasn't come to you, it may not be one you are able to comprehend. Let's try one last thing. What resources did you have access to?"

Heart thumping, he listed them.

"My wand. My writer. My… er, a paper toy I have. My friends, my training, my diplomacy skills…"

"Your friends," he said. "An interesting thing to call a 'resource'. If they had joined you, do you think you would have had more success?"

"If we were able overpower them, yes. Sir."

"Your friends were Maria García and Jarod Winston, in this instance. Both Muggle-borns. Both with limited magical experience, and as first-years, unlikely to be intimidating to upper-classmen. Answer again, would them joining you have de-escalated the situation?"

"No, sir."

Professor Donarko looked up and watched him for a moment.

"Explain the paper toy you mentioned. How would it have helped?"

Slowly, Nathaniel pulled the fragments of the Paper Man out of his pocket.

"Lay it on the desk."

He did so.

"It was destroyed?"

"Yes, sir."

A wand appeared in Professor Donarko's hand, and with a single tap, the Paper Man restitched itself, its dirt vanished, and it sprung into a humanoid figure before promptly falling back to the desk, lifeless.

"What were you attempting to do with it?"

"I - it fell out of my pocket, and since it was the only thing the bullies had missed, I told it to go ask someone for help."

"Were there any adults nearby?"

"Well, the Librarian…"

Professor Donarko waited.

Nathaniel finally realized.

"Do you know what you should have done?"

"I should have told the Librarian rather than involve myself."

"Correct."

He breathed. Professor Donarko laced his fingers.

"This is your second incident where you have failed to alert someone of authority," he said. "As a child, you can not be blamed for your inability to see adults as a resource. There are environmental factors that guide our thinking, and these are not ones we always have immediate control over or awareness of, particularly when we are children. It is, therefore, the responsibility of the adults in your life to educate you. We must instill this awareness and control so you may act as a functional being when you enter society. Your first incidence - the fight you had with a Miss Cole, Havermire, Mr. Goyle, and Crabbe after your Wizardry 101 class - was obviously not dealt with well enough to deliver any lasting lessons. I was told you had had five points deducted, which is about as many as a student can earn in a day."

Nathaniel's breath caught. He'd erased someone's entire work.

"Your duelling experience does not immediately make you more prone to violent action," Professor Donarko went on, " _unless_ you are not aware of the alternatives, as appears to be the case here. Your inconsideration has caused physical injury amongst four people now, including yourself. Being aware of the people around you and the effects you have upon them is as essential life skill. It is, in fact, one of the primary things Hufflepuff House attempts to emphasize. Do you understand your mistake here?"

Nathaniel nodded.

"Respond verbally."

"I did not see the Librarian as a resource, even after Professor Byron told me to look for adults."

"Good. I will be deducting five points for each of the people you have affected, for a total of twenty."

Blood drained from his face.

"And since this is the second incidence, I will be doubling that, for forty."

Nathaniel gaped.

"Allow this loss to serve as a reminder of your failings, and work to redeem yourself. You will also be tasked with asking two questions to each of your professors by the end of the week, in an effort to help you form relations with adults. If you fail to complete these tasks, detentions will be arranged. Do you understand?"

Nathaniel nodded, then said, "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Forty points. _Forty points._ For trying to stop _bullies._

Professor Donarko drew another student's homework from the pile.

"It goes without saying that Hufflepuff is at a loss when it comes to competing for the House Cup," he said. "The contributions of each individual are therefore all the more important. By earning points, a student is able to collaborate with their housemates to attempt to win the cup, and in the process, are able to earn themselves accolades. You may not care about this, but if you consider the skills it teaches in a more general context I'm sure you can see the benefit. We are social creatures. We live in groups, often many at once. Do you know how to earn points?"

"Yes, sir," Nathaniel said. "Answering questions, and helping other students."

"In essence. Now, I and the other House Heads have recently decided billboards will be posted in all common rooms, which display the amount of points a student has contributed. It is our hope that this will promote competition and sportiness between the houses. Students at a loss for points will also be singled out and allowed to receive the necessary attention."

So everyone was going to see he was in the negative. But why was he telling him this?

"The board will be installed at the end of the week. Do you understand?"

He thought for a moment.

"You're giving me an advantage," he realized. "A window to redeem myself. Sir."

"Yes. I hope you will take it as a sign that I have your best interests at heart. You may return the favor by demonstrating an improvement in your behavior. There are four days until the weekend, Mr. Zoldik. Is everything clear?"

"Yes, Professor Donarko."

"Do you have any concerns?"

"None at present, sir."

Professor Donarko watched him, and Nathaniel wondered if he should have thought for a second before responding.

"Very well. I detect no enchantments upon your toy, how does it function?"

Nathaniel blinked.

"It - it was enchanted by Professor McDonnell, sir. The spell must have broken, if that's something that happens."

"It is indeed. I suggest you see if she will install that enchantment again... it may serve as a reminder of your ability to seek help. You may go."

Nathaniel thanked him, and left hurriedly down the hallway. Forty points. Four days. He had to earn ten points, _every day_ , at least. And since he only had six classes per day - this was going to be difficult. He'd only ever gotten the five points from Professor Byron, and those were more out of pity than anything. And there were so many opportunities to lose them, too - Professor Cogito subtracted five for each tardy to her Transfiguration class, and he'd almost been late twice now!

He came to a stop at the barrels and stood there for a moment. However, the lid suddenly rolled back of its own accord, and a crowd of people came through. The bells for dinner must have gone off. He went off to the side, hesitating, then fell in alongside them. If he found Maria, maybe he could ask her to help. That might make things easier. And of course, he had to apologize for breaking her nose.


	28. Nathaniel (Part 2)

The waiting room was soft blue, turning off-white halfway up. Morning light beamed in through the windows, illuminating dust particles and the row of chairs below the windowsill, at the center of which was a small table containing a narrow vase with dry flowers and a few copies of _Warlock Thursday_ splayed out for title visibility. Opposite them, on the facing row of chairs, sat Nathaniel.

He usually liked quiet places - they let him get away from people, away from everyone trying to be his friend and impress him or earn his family's favor. Not that that was the situation now - it was almost the opposite, in fact, with him needing to earn the favor of the families his father had found. But he couldn't be bothered by it at the moment. He was too anxious about all those points he'd lost.

Every second he spent waiting for this checkup was time he could be in class. He almost wanted to jiggle his leg, which he'd caught himself doing the other day, and had been actively trying to suppress ever since. (Leg-jigglers did not give off the stoic, composed look he was going for.)

The door opened and Jarod came out, a timid expression appearing as he saw Nathaniel. Did he think he didn't like him, after his curt responses yesterday?

"Your turn," Jarod said. "They told me to send you in."

"Thanks." He stood and straightened his uniform. "See you back in class, eh?"

Jarod seemed to relax.

"Sure!"

Nathaniel entered the Hospital Wing. It was painted in the same colors as the waiting room, but had a lot more space for all the beds and their accompanying privacy curtains. Immediately to the left of the entryway was a small, windowed office with a man working inside, and to the right was a bench, next to which sat a young woman with a clipboard, her hair pulled back in a bun and wearing a small, white nurse's cap.

"Please sit," she said.

He did so, but no sooner had she flipped to his page than the man poked his head out of the office.

"Who are we on?" he asked.

"Mr. Nathaniel Zoldik," she read.

"Brook, you were supposed to go on break a half hour ago!"

"It's okay," she smiled, "we're nearly there."

"Nonsense. Hand me that, and I'll finish up. You should've called me earlier!"

She laughed and stood, passing him the clipboard, then grabbed her sweater and left the Wing.

"We still on for lunch?" the man called.

"Sure!"

The door closed.

"So… Mr. Zoldik," he said, taking the seat. "My name is Mr. Escere, Head Nurse, not that that says much as there's only the two of us! How are we feeling this morning?"

"Fine."

"Fine? You sleep okay?" he asked, looking through the papers.

"More or less."

"Well," Mr. Escere said, studying him - "I'm here to listen, if there's anything you want to talk about. We'll try to make this quick, that sound good?"

Nathaniel nodded.

"Let's start by going over your food and potion allergies. Have you had reactivity tests?"

"Yes."

"You have, have you?" he said, surprised, and put away a slip of paper he was getting out.

Something about the paper's texture caught his eye.

"Is that… normal paper?" Nathaniel asked.

"This? It is. It was even purchased from Muggle manufacturers, if you can believe that! Parchment is a bit expensive for the amount of notes we go through. Do you miss it?"

"Paper?"

"Yes," said Mr. Escere, smiling. He looked like someone that could be on the front of a magazine. "It can be surprising what people miss when they find themselves in new situations," he said. "Well, let's get started. We'll just go through and check that nothing's been missed."

They ran through the list, and everything checked off, at least of what Nathaniel remembered.

"We'll now do a body health analysis. This will take a minute, and you'll need to stand as still as you can on that platform over there, by the wall."

Nathaniel got up and stepped on what looked like a scale, that had an apparatus next to it with a needle gauge and a balloon.

"So," Mr. Escere said as he watched the needle quiver, "wizards and magic, eh? How are you taking everything?"

"It's…" he thought for a moment. "Easier than I would've thought. One day you can't make things fly in the air, and the next you can."

He laughed.

"Yes, well, you're living in an age of miraculous technology! Cell phones, the internet, augmented and virtual reality implants, those… drones, that work off the earth's magnetic and electric fields - i think - there are so many things that would put a wizard at loss for words... _if_ any of us bothered to look for a second, mind you."

That caught Nathaniel by surprise.

"You've got an interest in Muggle technology?"

"Of course. I worked for nearly a decade in experimental medicine, you can't help but develop up a sense of curiosity. But gadgets and gizmos aside - how are you adjusting to the living situation itself? It can be quite the culture shock, from what I understand."

"It's different. I miss my phone, and the internet, like you mentioned. It was hard getting to sleep the first week. But everyone's a lot more honest, or friendly, if that makes sense."

"Sure, sure," he said, reading the gauge and marking something on his clipboard. "Met anyone interesting?"

"Professor Hagrid."

He laughed. "You have any classes with him?"

"No, not until my fourth year. But then there's Professor Smith, and his ghost arm -"

"Phantom Limb, actually, and I agree with you there. That's quite the skill he's developed. As someone in medicine, body magic always fascinates me."

Nathaniel nodded, but didn't say anything.

"Anyone else?" he asked. "Making any friends?"

"Sure. A girl in my house. And the Friar, actually."

"The Fat Friar?"

"Yeah, I walk with him in the mornings, sometimes. He's very nice."

"Well, that's a bit unusual, making friends with a ghost!"

"I know. I can see how someone would get bored. But it's been nice."

Mr. Escere turned him away from the gage and began moving his wand over him like a metal detector.

"What sort of things do you talk about?" he asked.

"Just life. His past. Magical society and creatures. It's funny, there's this other ghost we sometimes bump into, who's got a big arrow sticking out of his head. He's always looking for his friend, saying the same thing over and over again, every time."

"Well... you can't expect ghosts to change the way they haunt, eh?"

"I guess. I would've thought he'd found him by now, though."

Mr. Escere laughed and looked at the balloon, which was inflating in time with Nathaniel's breaths and making odd whooshing sounds.

"Now, if you could stomp once…"

Nathaniel did so, and the scale glowed white, then developed into a turquoise.

"Excellent color," he remarked, making another note. "Don't be afraid to put some butter on your toast, though. Okay, let's do an eye examination and dexterity test, and that will be it for the day, sound good?"

Nathaniel stepped up to a line marked on the floor, and read letters off an alphabet triangle on the other side of the room. When he finished, Mr. Escere had him identify numbers off a sheet of parchment, in which everything was composed of color-changing circles. It reminded him of something you'd see in a movie about drugs. They then moved into the dexterity tests, which were just a few finger-to-thumb touches and wrist movements, which Nathaniel thought might have been for checking your range of capable wand movements.

"Very good, Mr. Zoldik, looks like you're in excellent health," he said, as they finished. "I'll write you a note to take to your professor - what class are you in?"

"Potions."

"Ah, you must be with Professor McDonnell!"

"Yep."

"You like her?"

"She's… very enthusiastic."

"It pays to have a passionate teacher," he said. "Believe you me. You'll be glad for it, looking back."

"I am glad for it. It's just a bit early, sometimes."

"You don't drink, er, mocaccinos?"

Nathaniel blinked. "No, my parents say I'm too young for caffeine."

"Ah. Well, who knows, maybe they're right!"

Mr. Escere tore off the note and handed it to him.

"You know about technology, but not caffeine?"

"I've heard of caffeine," Mr. Escere said. "But my knowledge of technology isn't that great either, by non-magical standards. There's so much to know, and not enough time!"

"That's true."

"Very good. Well it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zoldik, please send in the next person on your way out."

"Okay," he said, stepping off the scale. "Although I think I'm the last one."

"Really?"

Mr. Escere got up and opened the door to the wing, but sure enough, it was empty.

"Hmm. Well okay then. Good luck with your classes."

"Thanks."

He left, wondering why Mr. Escere had been so surprised. His last name started with a Z, after all, it wasn't like he was in the middle of the alphabet.

Note clutched in his hand, he walked quickly to class, determined to make the most of the potions period. He'd seen people earn two points in a single lecture on a semi-regular basis, so with his six classes per day and twenty-four classes total, it wouldn't be too hard to make up his debt if he really tried for it. All it took was the right circumstances. He'd be sure not to sit next to anyone distracting, or anyone that could get him in trouble - he thought of Chase and Edgar and their videogames, even though the most they did was talk amongst themselves and make jokes to each other when the teacher wasn't looking.

He went down one flight of stairs, across an indoor balcony overlooking a large hall below, then down a second flight, which had a trick stair that kept teleporting him back up a step until he realized what was going on and stepped over it. _That,_ he thought, was obnoxious.

When he finally got back to the ground floor, he made his way to the potions room and unceremoniously pushed through the door. He was partly worried about his bag - he'd left it with Maria, but their class was split with Gryffindors, and if the rumors he'd heard were true you could never know what would happen. However, as soon as he looked inside, he stopped in his tracks - all the desks were completely rearranged. Spotting Maria, he went over.

"We've been put in our brewing groups for the term," she said. There were already three other people in her group. "They were assigned, sorry…"

 _Great_. If there was one thing he hated, it was group projects. Half the time you ended up with people that had absolutely no interest in the work, and you had to do everything yourself. And there was a lot less opportunity for earning points, if you were working with just your partners instead of the entire class. And it was for the _entire term?_

"It's fine," he said. "Do you know where my bag is?"

"It was kept with your desk. Should be with your new group."

At that moment, Professor McDonnell found him. For a half a second his thoughts went to the Paper Man in his pocket, but he had much more pressing concerns right then.

"Mr. Zoldik!" she said cheerily. "You're over here - the groups have been given a team-building worksheet, just introduce yourself to your partners and work through for the rest of the period, alright?"

She showed him to the corner of the room, where sat Monica Yaxley (who flashed a hand in greeting), a Gryffindor boy with medium-length black hair, and a Gryffindor girl in a witch hat, who was leaning back in her chair with a boot up on her desk, not a care in the world as to how far it made her skirt slide up. Great.

"Hi, I'm Nathaniel," he announced.

"Trip Weasley," said the boy, extending a hand, which Nathaniel shook.

"Ray," said the girl.

He made the connection.

"You're the girl from the Sorting! With the Z!"

"Yeah?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "What of it?"

"Er, nothing. Good to meet you."

"Sure. Say, what if I called you _Nate?"_


	29. Ellen

"You said your name was Weasley?" Nathaniel asked.

"That's right. Frederick Weasley the Third. But everyone calls me Trip."

"Why Trip?" asked Ray Zuwaldt.

"Oh, you know, third, triple, trip."

She laughed. "Okay. Are you Ellen's brother, or something?"

Frederick 'Trip' Weasley shook his head.

"She's my… second cousin, I think. But our families are close! You're friends with her?"

"Kinda."

The four of them were sat at the table. Monica was opposite Nathaniel and filling out the first response on the worksheet (without having consulted anyone, he noted). Trip was next to her (and diagonal from him), and Zuwaldt was immediately to his left, leaned forward on her elbows and listening to Trip.

"You guys both have last names starting with 'Z', huh?" Trip said. "Pretty unusual, that."

"Yeah, it is," Nathaniel agreed. Zuwaldt glanced at him.

"'Y's are just as uncommon," said Monica. "'W's are everywhere, aren't they?"

"They are! Ellen and I have three other cousins here, in fact, one of them even in our grade, but he's a Ravenclaw."

"I thought all Weasleys were in Gryffindor?"

Trip laughed. "Most of the time, yeah."

"Maybe it's that Granger blood."

"You're related Hermione Granger?" said Nathaniel. "I read about her in _Influential Witches and Wizards of Our Time._ "

"Ha, well, I'm not related to her personally. But yeah, i think Isaac is... although Granger was in Gryffindor, too, you know."

"Only because she chose it," said Monica.

"Hey, what are you writing?" Nathaniel asked.

"Just the first question: ' _How will you keep in contact with each other?'_. I put writers and owls, if that works."

"Works for me," said Trip.

"Let's exchange tabs, then, and we can start a Group Page."

Zuwaldt cleared her throat.

"Er, I don't have a writer," she said.

"Have you got an owl?"

"Yeah."

Trip raised his eyebrows.

"How do you have an owl but not a writer?"

She laughed - "The owl was a gift."

"That still works," said Monica. "You can talk to Weasley since you're both in the same House, then owl one of us if you have to. Are getting a writer soon?"

"Maybe."

"Well, you ought to, everybody's got one. Here," she said, having peeled two tabs from the back of her writer. She handed one each to Trip and Nathaniel, and they followed suit, while Zuwaldt sat there with her arms crossed.

"How do you start a Group Page?" Nathaniel asked.

"Just put everyone on the same sheet. Have you not had writers before?"

"No, I'm Muggle-born."

Zuwaldt started and looked at him - "Just going to come right out and say it, huh?"

"I don't see a reason not to."

There was a pause.

"Ah…. well don't worry about it," she said, giving his arm a friendly back-handed slap. "We'll take care of ya."

"Er, thanks, but I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"Are you?" Monica said. Both she and Trip were watching him, Monica's expression hard. "You know your way around the library, then?"

"...Yes. I there just yesterday doing homework."

"And you know how find books?"

That was actually a good point. He shrugged.

"I was just going to talk to the librarian. But if there's a filing system I should know, I can learn it."

"And you know how to write?"

... _Could he write?_

"Uh, yes."

"With a _quill?_ I don't know if Professor McDonnell accepts Muggle writing."

"She ought to," Trip said, looking at her. "The letters are the same, aren't they?"

"And you know not to use your wand on anyone?" Monica pressed.

"C'mon, he's Muggle-born, not _Muggle_ ," said Trip. "Why you being so hard on him?"

" _It doesn't matter if he's not Muggle!"_ she hissed. "He's been raised by them! Who knows what he's been taught, or the sorts of things he's done - you can't go your whole life around them and not be unaffected! And _I'm_ not going to be put at risk, or have my grades be ruined, just because he has to be in a group! Are there really no other Muggle-borns here he can go with?"

Trip and Zuwaldt were gaping at her. Trip started to speak, but Nathaniel drew himself up in a dignified sort-of-way and cut over him.

"Miss Yaxley," he said, voice calm. "I'm not sure where your concern is coming from -"

Before he could say another word, however, Zuwaldt burst out in anger.

"HOW COULD YOU SAY SUCH THINGS?"

" _What are you talking about?"_

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, _WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT?_ YOU'RE BEING COMPLETELY… COMPLETELY… RUDE!"

" _How_ am _I_ being rude? You're the one shouting! And you know the risks! I know all you Gryffindors like to pretend there's nothing wrong with Muggles, but excuse the rest of us if we don't turn a blind eye to it!"

Professor McDonnell had come over.

"What's going on here?"

"SHE'S SAYING BAD THINGS ABOUT MUGGLE-BORNS!"

"Ray, take a breath, keep your voice down," Professor McDonnell instructed, squatting down to their level. "Now, Miss Yaxley, you were saying things about Muggle-borns, is that right?"

"No, not exactly - I was talking about Muggles! _He's_ a Muggle-born, and you put him in our group!"

"Come with me, out in the hall. Now."

Monica stared at her for a moment, then got to her feet.

"Keep working on your worksheet, everyone!" Professor McDonnell announced (quite a few heads had turned to watch them). "As a reminder, discussions are to be kept to in-class activities and the lecture material. Any unrelated discussions are inappropriate and a violation of classroom guidelines."

She took the angry Monica out in the hall, and the three of them looked at each other, Zuwaldt still fuming. Slowly, the noise in the classroom returned.

"I don't know _how_ she can be saying such things," Zuwaldt said.

"She's just…" Trip waved his hand - "a bit backward. Try not to get worked up about it."

" _Not get worked up about it?_ Are you defending her?"

"No," Nathaniel answered. "He's right. You can't change someone's opinion by yelling at them."

Zuwaldt opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.

"Let's try this worksheet, shall we?" Nathaniel said, pulling it over.

They only got halfway through the next question: ' _What's everyone's favorite way to study?'_ before Professor McDonnell came in again.

"Disrupting the class is a serious break in the rules," she announced. "For that reason, five points will be deducted from both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Monica?"

Monica met Nathaniel's eyes for a second, before looking at her shoes.

"I'm sorry about saying rude things about Muggles."

"That's okay," he said automatically. "Er… we all make mistakes?"

"If anyone has concerns about their group partners, they are welcome to meet with me after class or in Office Hours," Professor McDonnell said. "Now, let's keep working, shall we? And try to get to know one another!"

Monica took her seat, and the three of them didn't know what to say for a minute.

"I lost a bunch of points last night," Nathaniel offered. "I guess the House Cup's a long-shot at this point, isn't it?"

Monica glared at him.

"Hey, Gryffindors lose points all the time," Trip said. "Practically known for it. No big deal."

"I got detention, too."

"Why are you so afraid of Muggles, anyway?" Zuwaldt asked, voice hushed.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I want _to know,"_ she growled.

"Don't be stupid!" Monica shot. "You _know_. All of you Gryffindors know, even if you have some inexplicable soft spot for them. Don't pretend you haven't heard... the things they do. Poisoning each other. Setting the countryside on fire. Tricking people into selling their lives away, husbands and wives always at each other's throats, whole nations being starved at the hands of their governments. _They're a bunch of wild dogs._ "

Zuwaldt opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Nathaniel put a hand on her shoulder. He was surprised at himself, but hey, it seemed like the right way to get her attention.

"Let me."

He turned to Monica, but a moment passed when he didn't know what to say, and he filled the time by resuming his dignified posture. To be honest, Monica's impression of non-wizards wasn't completely wrong, and that was the part that difficult to swallow. It made his face prickle with shame, like the onset of getting red-faced, but he breathed to shut that down. She wasn't wrong, but it was also true that not _all_ people did those things, and if you only listened to the news… well, he could see where she got her impression.

"I want to work well together," he started. "I want good grades, and I'm good at doing work. I know there's some things I need to learn, but I'm committed to learning them. Okay?"

She chewed her cheek.

"And… I don't act out. I'm not an aggressive person. I don't know what you've heard about Muggles, but I've never been involved in anything violent. In fact, since being in the magical world, I've had to defend myself far more times than I ever have outside it. But… that doesn't matter. What matters is, we're partners, and if you ever notice anything… concerning about me, bring it up and I will listen. Or we can talk to Professor McDonnell and figure something out, if that's what you prefer. I assure you, I'm not a, er, 'wild dog'. Okay?"

"Okay." She let out a pent-up breath. "Fine. You know, you sure don't talk like a Muggle."

"Maybe not all Muggles are how you think. But what do you mean?"

"Well, you're more like… the child of a noble family, like a Greengrass, or a Bones."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, registering that she knew some of the names his father had mentioned. "Shall we get back to the sheet? We should probably stay on-topic."

"Good idea," Trip said.

Zuwaldt was still glaring at Monica.

With Trip's help, they finally managed to get everyone engaged in the worksheet again, and once they were working the rest of it went smoothly. There were a few sticky points around questions like " _What are good qualities in a teammate?"_ and " _How will your team address conflict?"_ , but Nathaniel had been involved in these kinds of things enough to know what the answers were supposed to be. Monica, as it turned out, was actually quite creative at coming up with answers too, and Zuwaldt was good at asking questions to help flesh out answers. By the time the bell rang, Nathaniel was feeling a bit more hopeful.

"Wait!" Monica called. "Weasley, Zuwaldt, you need to put your names."

"Hey, I'm curious, Nate -" Trip said, as Zuwaldt wrote her name (borrowing Nathaniel's quill). "Or, Nathaniel, if you prefer -" (he waved him off) - "how'd you know about my family? Or Granger? Seeing as you're, you know, Muggle-born. Just from books?"

"Mostly. My father has done some research on his own, and mentioned a few important names. Greengrass was one, too, as well as Shacklebolt, Potter, Cresswell -"

"Potter?" Zuwaldt asked, grinning.

He watched in apprehension as she turned and shouted across the noisy classroom.

"Oi, Potter! Found somebody who wants to be in your fan club!"

There was a bit of laughter at this, but the boy she'd called to kept stowing his things in his bag, stone-faced.

"He's a bit of a spoiled jerk," she explained.

"I... see. Well, nice to, er, meet all of you," Nathaniel said.

Trip and Zuwaldt returned the sentiment, but Monica just grimaced and took the finished sheet up to Professor McDonnell's desk. Sighing inwardly, he bade farewell and went to Maria, and they left for Charms. Maria told him to slow down at one point, and he apologized, then explained to her about his talk with Professor Donarko.

" _Forty points?"_ she asked, astounded. "Why would he do such a thing? You're in your first year!"

"I don't blame him for it. Discipline's important to learn, and the earlier the better."

"But you're already disciplined!"

He gave a half-smile.

"Well, that explains why the hourglass was so low…"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone was talking about it in the common room last night, didn't you hear?"

"I was… focused."

They'd been doing their Defense homework, but he'd been thinking of the talk the entire time and hadn't paid attention to anything around him (no less his homework).

"He seems evil," Maria said decidedly, as if reading his thoughts.

"He does teach the Dark Arts, doesn't he?"

"You think he really _is_ evil?"

"No," Nathaniel laughed. "But it's probably a dangerous subject, so he has to be strict."

"Well he's definitely strict. I feel like he's trying to turn us into a military!"

"What do you mean?"

"With his talks!"

"You mean the one after the Sorting?"

"And the one on Friday."

"Oh… I must have not been listening."

She gaped at him.

"...Anyways, how did you like your group?" he asked.

"They're good! I have those two girls from Wizardry. The other guy, a boy from our House, was looking pretty happy about the arrangements until he realized how silly they were, and then that we were all Muggle-borns."

"How did he react?"

"To what?"

"To you guys being Muggle-borns."

"Well... he was a bit unhappy about it, but no more than you'd expect after learning you had to do a project with people that've never touched magic before."

"That's not so bad."

"What happened with your group?"

Nathaniel told her about Monica.

"Honestly, she seems a bit racist to me," she said. "That sucks, big time."

"You've had people tease you for being Muggle-born?"

"Of course, haven't you?"

"Not really."

"They don't call out to you in the hallways, or whisper about you in class?"

"Not that I've noticed..."

"Well, it happened to me a lot more before we became friends," she said. "This one time a girl even tripped me. I guess there's safety in numbers, though, like Mum always says."

Nathaniel felt awkward. From the stories he'd read there was usually some sort of feeling of gratitude or a lump in your throat after someone admitted companionship toward you. But it wasn't there for him.

"Hopefully the project won't be too hard for Muggle-borns," he said.

"I know! You don't think it will be, do you? I bet she won't make it unfair, she seems like she's nice, even if she took five points from both houses."

"Hey, five's better than forty."

She laughed.

"So... what do you think is the quickest way to earn points?"

They walked on, plotting ways for him to dig himself out of the hole Professor Donarko had thrown him in, and took their time once Maria reminded him they had a twenty-minute break. They decided if he managed to perform _Wingardium Leviosa_ well enough he might earn a few points from Professor Marwazi, and with that in mind they hurried on, deciding to use the remaining time to practice.

* * *

Ray and Kendra entered the dormitory without pause, dumping their bags on their beds.

"I really don't know how you do it," Kendra huffed.

Ray stared at the ceiling, suppressing a groan. "Maybe it's just easier for some people! I'm not the only one that's gotten it, you know."

"What, you mean the other people floating theirs up a couple inches? I don't think so. There's definitely something you're doing differently."

Behind them, the dormitory door opened, and Ellen entered with some of the girls from the 1A group.

"What's going on?" she asked, seeing them in discussion.

"Ray's mastered the Levitation Charm, and she's not giving up how to do it."

"I have _not_ mastered it! And I've told you all I know, I don't have any idea what I'm doing either."

"Let's see you're technique," Ellen told Kendra. "Maybe we can help."

"Have you gotten it, then?"

"Just about, yeah."

Grimacing, Kendra took out her wand and directed it at one of Ray's socks, which she'd neglected to put in the dirty clothes hamper. The two giggling girls (Kate and Anna) had come to watch, as well as Olivia, Abby Crosswater, and some other girl Ray thought might've been named Samara.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The toes of the sock rose like a snake, then fell back down again.

"Hmm," Ellen said, crossing her arms. "Maybe put more emphasis on the 'oh' instead of the 'ah'."

Kendra tried again, and a bit more of the sock rose off the floor, but not by much.

"It's harder than a leaf."

"Try positioning your fingers, like this and this," Ellen directed, demonstrating with her own wand.

Kendra tried again, and the sock left the ground for just a moment before slumping back down.

"That's loads better!" she encouraged.

Kendra looked at Ray. "And _you're_ doing all this?"

"I think so..."

Ray took out her own wand. " _Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The sock rose up to chest level. Kate and Anna went " _Ooo!"_ , but Ellen frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing! Your technique just… looks different, from what she showed in class. But I guess it works too."

"If there's different ways of doing it, why is she being so firm about this way?" Kendra demanded.

"I don't know! Maybe it's just the one fastest to pick up. Have you tried just _Leviosa?"_

"What's that?"

"The Floating Charm. It's an easier variation of the Levitation Charm that you might be able to use for practice."

"Hmm."

She tried it, and sure enough, the sock rose to knee-height, where it remained for a few seconds before falling again.

"You're right, that was easier," she said, cheeks rosy from exertion. Having seen her success, Kate and Anna congratulated her and went down to the common room, and Abby and Samara wandered after a few moments later. Only Olivia remained, staying by Ellen.

"It can't do everything the Levitation Charm does," Ellen was saying, as though she were giving a lecture, "just like the Hovering and Rocket variations, but they're each worthwhile to learn!"

Ray's mouth popped open.

" _There's a Rocket Charm?"_

"She mentioned it in class, don't you remember? It's _Dis-plo-do-sa._ Only don't try it indoors, it might -"

" _Displodosa!"_

There was a burst, and the sock shot straight into Kendra's face.

" _Ergh!"_ she yelled, stumbling back onto Ray's bed as she howled with laughter.

"Well that's _nice."_

"I'm sorry!" she laughed, "I didn't mean to!"

"It's fine," Kendra said, sitting up on the edge of her bed. "At least it's starting to work for me. I've been meaning to ask - what kind of wand do you have? You never gave me a straight answer."

"Willow," she proclaimed, holding it up.

"No, what core."

"Oh, I'm… not sure. Mr. Ollivander didn't mention one."

"Then maybe that's it. Maybe it's got thunderbird feather or erumpent horn, and it makes things easy for you."

"I don't think so," Ellen said. "That would cost loads, and I don't think you can even use erumpent horn, it's much too dangerous. Plus, wands are only as powerful as their holder, they can't amplify anything."

Kendra looked at her crossly, in the way that she looked at everyone.

"You sure know a lot of stuff. You sound like that one Ravenclaw girl Ray hates."

"I don't _hate_ her," Ray said hurriedly, as Ellen gave her a questioning look. "I just… don't _like_ her."

"Please. You spend the whole period checking to make sure you're doing better than her, and look the complete opposite direction everytime she answers a question."

"Why don't you like her?" Ellen asked.

"She used to tease me at my old school."

"What? Your old school?" Kendra repeated, eyebrows furrowing. "You said she was from your old _neighborhood_."

Ray's eyes widened.

"You're both from the same town?" Ellen asked, impressed. "That's a huge coincidence!"

"How is it a coincidence?" Kendra demanded. "What school did you go to?"

"No, we - we didn't," she said hurriedly, "it's nothing. Nevermind."

She stared imploringly at Ellen.

"Ray, it's fine," Ellen said. "This isn't Slytherin!"

"What do you mean this isn't Slytherin?"

"It's nothing, she's just from my neighborhood!"

"You said _school._ "

"Ray, it's okay, really."

" _Wait_ ," Kendra said, with sudden understanding. Ray looked at her in horror. "You're Muggle. Muggle-born."

"No! I'm not! I'm really not, I'm half-blood! My father was a wizard -"

"But you went to a Muggle school?"

"Just - for a little while!"

"Oh, that's fine, then."

Ray's heart was beating.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought there was some _school_ I didn't know about that let you learn magic early. I was about to write a letter to my parents yelling at them for not sending me."

Ray was still frozen - Kendra didn't care she was Muggle-born?

"Although, that makes this whole thing even worse!" she cried, collapsing back on Ray's bed. "If you're Muggle, you should be at even _less_ of an advantage, which means I'm even _further_ behind than I thought!"

"You're not behind," Ellen reassured. "Everybody learns at their own pace. Besides, you've already gotten it, you just need to improve upon it now!"

"Are you _sure_ there's nothing special about your wand, Ray?" she groaned, staring at the ceiling.

"I don't know, really."

"It does look a bit different," Ellen conceded, giving it a closer look. "It's not varnished?"

"Nope."

"And not stained, or anything... you sure it was finished?"

"It's the one he gave me."

"Well, what if we tried a different spell? Try _Alohomora_ , that one took me ages."

"What does it do?"

"It's an unlocking spell. Here… try it on my trunk."

Ellen pulled her now-empty trunk from under her bed and stood it upright, locking it with a key. It looked very expensive, and Ray was glad their beds were so big so nobody saw hers.

"Now, hold your wand like this, and this, and say _Alohomora._ It's easier if you whisper it, like you're trying not to wake anyone up."

Kendra watching, Ray studied the shiny, brass keyhole on the top of Ellen's trunk. She directed her wand at it, then cast the spell. The magic stirred within her, but it didn't flow in the way it did when a spell was successful. She tried a second time, then a third, and stopped when she started getting frustrated.

"Guess that one's going to take some practice," she sighed.

"It's not unusual for it to take a few days to learn how to perform a charm correctly," Ellen said, putting her trunk back. "Otherwise we wouldn't have the class, would we?"

"I guess not!"

"And now we know you're not holding the Wand of Destiny," she grinned.

"Well that made me feel better," Kendra stated, jumping up. "We still have two hours until dinner. Want to finish up the Herbology homework?"

"Yeah, I guess we should. Are you... really not bothered, that I'm from a Muggle family?"

Kendra shrugged. "Nah. You seem fine to me."

"You see, Ray?" Ellen said, as they shouldered their bags and made for the stairwell. "It's no big deal, being Muggle-born. I don't know why you're still so worked up about it. People haven't cared about that sort of thing since before the Dark War!"

"Uh, I don't know about that," said Kendra. "I'd keep it quiet if it were me."

"Yeah, and that's not been my experience," said Ray. "Everytime I'm over talking to my brother I hear awful things about Muggles and Muggle-borns. They make us - or them - sound like monsters."

"But that's just Slytherin," Ellen dismissed. "They're all a bit backward."

"It's _not_ though!" she insisted. "You should have heard the girl in my Potions group this morning - she thought all kinds of terrible things about Muggles, and she's in Hufflepuff!"

Ellen faltered. "Well, Hufflepuff's... a mixed bag. What did she say?"

"The same sort of thing! Everyone's always talking about how we hurt each other, or let each other starve, or constantly fight amongst ourselves and get into fights. She called us wild dogs!"

"Do Muggles _not_ do that sort of thing?" Kendra asked.

"Of course not! At least, not for the most part," she said, suddenly remembering a few of the news programs she'd overheard.

"Well that was convincing."

"Stop it," Ellen said. "I'm telling you, it's all just nasty rumors, and they've no right to be saying such things. I mean, people will blame Muggles for Sun Spots if you let them! And I'm sure it just _seems_ bad, because you're always hanging out at the Slytherin table, or are listening for all the worst things and not paying attention to the good stuff. Just don't go over there as much! And if you _do_ ever start getting teased, just find us, and we'll back you up like friends should."

"Thanks," Ray said. "But I'm not planning on letting on about my background anyway, though. What are Sun Spots?"

Ellen frowned, but didn't press it.

"One of the Rampant Curses the Scandinavians let out," she said. "That's why you can't go outside for too long without wearing shade-cream or a brightness ward. They've been trying to fix it for decades now."

"Do Muggles get -" she started, but stopped when Potter and a group of boys suddenly came down the opposing stairwell and went into the common room. Seeing the expression on her face, Ellen threw out an arm and stopped her where she stood.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about Devin," she said. "You guys have _got_ to stop fighting all the time!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ray said.

"He told me just the other day you lost three points for chucking an eraser at him!"

"It was _him_ that lost the points! And he's the one who started it, he knocked ink all over my parchment!"

"But still, if you keep losing points, people are going to notice -"

"I make up enough to cover it," she said.

"She's right," Kendra affirmed. "Always doing what the professors want in Charms and Creatures. Transfiguration, too, come to think of it. They love her just as much as they hate her, I swear."

"Well… still… it's not good to have that sort of thing going on all the time, and if it escalates -"

"Why don't you talk to him about it!?" Ray demanded. "He's the one who started it! He's never apologized for anything, and I'm not about to just let him walk all over me! I don't do anything to him, and have no reason to kiss his ass. I've got better relations with the Slytherins, and _they're_ the ones that are supposed to hate me!"

"Listen - if you guys just, keep going back and forth," she stammered, "nothing will ever get resolved! I know it's not fair, but can't you, just, try being nice to him?"

Ray moved up to her, face-to-face.

"No. Because then he wins. And if he wins, he doesn't learn."

She started back down the stairs.

"But look at it from _his_ view!" Ellen called, thumping down after her. "Maybe he thinks you're the one having a go at _him -_ "

They entered the common room, and immediately Ray heard Potter boasting to the group that had followed him.

"- Started out with the Wasps, straight out of Hogwarts, of course, until the Falcons took on a new captain and he got contracted. Then _my_ dad was an Auror, so it's sort of skipping generations, you see?"

"Is it true you've got a Striker?" one of the boys asked.

A smug look crossed Potter's face - "That old thing? Sure, but we've got eyes on a prototype being worked on in Chile. Top-secret, of course, even I don't know all the details. But there'll be an announcement come December, exclusively for the investors, of which my father -"

He suddenly caught sight of Ray.

"- But nevermind that! We've got all the entertainment we need right here at Hogwarts. Blown up any brooms recently, Zuwaldt?"

"Are you _still_ going on about that!?"

"It's an important question. You're not thinking about signing up, are you?"

"For what?"

"You haven't seen? Well maybe it's better you don't know. You wouldn't have Snow Pixie's chance in hell of qualifying, in any case."

"Qualifying for _what?"_ she demanded, marching across the room and pushing her way through the crowd.

"Wait - Ray - don't," Ellen said, trying catching her arm, but Ray tugged it free.

"That," Potter said.

On the bulletin board was a poster. It was an advertisement by the looks of it, with a few sports balls bobbing around in decorative magic ink, with the message drawn on in thick, scarlet wording:

 _INTERESTED IN QUIDDITCH?_

 _SIGN UP FOR THE GRYFFINDOR TEAM!_

 _OPEN POSITIONS:_ _CHASER (4), BEATER (2), SEEKER (1)_

 _TRYOUTS BEGIN IN TWO WEEKS_

 _CONTACT ASSISTANT CAPTAIN_ _KEVIN PHILIP_ _TO ADD YOUR NAME!_

 _BRING YOUR OWN BROOM_

So _these_ were the tryouts.

"You know, I actually was," she said, sticking her chin out at him and crossing her arms.

"Oh you were, were you? Well it doesn't look like they have any positions fit for you, sorry to say - although, maybe they'd let you on as a Bludger!"

A few people chuckled nervously.

"I was thinking about going for Chaser, _actually."_

"Chaser?" he rolled his eyes at the nearest boy, who turned out to be Longbottom, and was grimacing. "You can try all you want, Zuwaldt, but they won't let you on. You don't have the temperment."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know if you're aware of this, but sports are _team-_ based."

" _What makes you think I can't play on a team?_ "

"Wasn't that you, shouting at your group in Potions this morning?"

Ray faltered.

"That was about something entirely different!"

He scoffed. "Sure. Well, it's the Team you're going to need to convince, and there's not a chance of you managing that, if you don't mind me being frank about it."

"Well I'm not so sure. I've got friends on the team, after all."

"What, upper-classmen?"

"Yeah, upper-classmen!"

That caught him off guard.

"Well you can't play! You've never touched a broom in your life!"

"Funny, I remember touching one in Fitness just earlier today."

"You know what I mean! You've never even played a game of Quidditch, so there's no point in signing up!"

"I don't know, I'm pretty good at sports, I think I'll give it a go anyways."

Potter stared.

"Well there's no way I'm going to be on a team with _you!"_

"Then I guess you'll have to find something else then, _won't you!?_ "

His jaw dropped.

"Listen, Zuwaldt, you might not know this, but I'm a Potter, and Potters always get on the team. There's no _way_ I'm not playing! My dad played, my _granddad_ played _and_ he went pro, and so did my great-granddad Harry Potter! Maybe you've heard of _him?"_

"So the famous Potters always get to play, well there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

He was starting to look frantic. Ray's temper was up, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction she got at making him lose his cocky attitude.

"Tell you what, I'll race you for it!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious? We'll race, Zuwaldt. If you lose, you don't sign up."

" _How is that fair!?_ You've got loads more experience than me!"

"You can pick the course. And we'll use the same brooms. And… we'll do it right before tryouts, two weeks from now, and that'll give you enough time to practice."

She considered, pulse thumping. Potter thought she didn't have a chance of beating him, that much was obvious, but how hard could brooms really be? They'd had a few lessons now, and she was already ahead of most of the girls.

"I'll think about it," she said, deciding to ask Zach how good Potter actually was.

He grinned - "Got you scared, Zuwaldt?"

" _No,"_ she said determinantly.

"But you don't want to race, huh?"

"I said I would think about it!"

"Well think faster, Zuwaldt - or is thinking hard for you?"

Her temper spiked.

"FINE! If we race, _you_ don't touch a broom until it's time."

He considered - "Okay. But you know, now that I think about it, they're definitely not taking more than two first-years, no matter how good of friends you are. So I guess I could just wait for tryouts, can't I?"

"Oh, you're _so sure_ they'll take you over me, are you?"

He shrugged, still smiling.

"You know, _Potter_ , I'm not too bad on a broom, and if push came to shove, I think they'd go with someone they got along with and could train rather than someone who's as cocky as you!"

His expression faded.

"Besides, I'm already friends with most of them, and I was even _told_ to tryout! I'm not just some random first-year, you know. You really feel that confident? I wonder, how many upper-year friends do _you_ have?"

"So, what, you want to race, then?"

"Yes. And if you lose, you don't go to tryouts."

He laughed - "No way!"

"Those are the same conditions!"

"I don't care, Zuwaldt! My family's been on the team for generations! And I don't see why you care so much, you don't know a _thing_ about Quidditch, you're a bleeding Mug-"

In an instant, she threw herself across the space between them and cupped a hand over his mouth - " _Shut it!_ "

" _Ergh! Get off me!"_

"OYE!"

One of the giant upper-classman (Socks, of all people) had had enough, and barked at them from the armchairs.

"- Pipe down, ya pissy li'l maggots! Can't ya see this's a _study area?_ If ya want 'a have a go at each other take it out tah the hallway for Chrissake! Or better yet, go down te the grounds and jump in the lake, that'll cool yer heads off!"

"Here, here!" called another upper-classman.

"Bleedin' firsties, I tell ya! Can't get a moment's peace 'round here!"

Socks fell back in his armchair, and pulled his papers toward him again. Glaring at Potter, she took a step back.

"Don't - say - it," she growled.

He studied her.

"You lose, you don't sign up," he repeated.

"Not unless you do the same."

"Then it's not going to happen."

"Then I guess I'm signing up."

"I'll… you can pick something else."

"What do you mean?"

"Anything you want. But I _have_ to get on the team, I _have_ to try."

She thought for a moment. Anything she wanted…

"If you lose... you don't talk to me, or about me, for a month."

"Fine by me"

"Or anyone else!"

"Not talk to anyone at all?"

"That's right."

He gaped at her.

" _No way!_ "

That _had_ been a bit unreasonable.

"Fine - two weeks. Final offer. And you never talk about… what you almost just said, ever. Or I'm trying out, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Okay."

"Fine."

They stared at each other, and Ray wondered if they should shake on it, before deciding she didn't want to touch him. She shoved her way out of the group, went back to Kendra, and they started toward the table Zach was at near the windows.

"Wait, Ray -" Ellen called, following.

"I don't want to hear it," she said shortly.

"About Potter -"

Ray stared at her.

"I - just -"

"Later," Kendra said.

Ellen hesitated.

"...Okay."

Ray went on, and Ellen stood for another moment and left.

"What was all that about?" Zach asked, as they took their seats.

"Potter being stupid. How good's he on brooms?"

"Pretty good…"

Ray's mouth grew tight and she got out her work, and thankfully Zach didn't ask anything more. She would tell him later, of course, but she really needed to get her Herbology done.

"You're on the Defense?" Kendra asked, looking at Zach's papers.

"...Yeah."

* * *

They went to dinner. Ray sat near Kev and Ashley's group, of which Socks was a part of, and apologized for the noise earlier.

He shrugged. "Jest don't dae it again, Firsty."

Thankful, she ate while Kendra pulled Zach into discussion about the practicalities of toads, which they were studying in Creatures. Ray ended up looking over at Potter's group once or twice, where Ellen sat, though she seemed to be immersed in her writer rather than joining in the conversation.

After dinner, she and Zach went out to the Quidditch stadium, Kendra opting to head to the library and work on homework with her friend Natalie. Ray told Zach about the race, and confided in him that she was Muggle-born after much debating with herself. Thankfully, he shrugged it off, same as Kendra.

"Thought as much, to be honest. But no big deal to me."

She smiled, feeling a surge of warmth toward him.

"You know one thing Muggles got right? Virtual Rooms."

"Is that like, VR goggles?"

"Kinda, but with full-body tracking in an indoor gymnasium. There's objects they can mask over, so you can actually walk around and touch things, it's really cool! I always try to get my brother to take me when i visit him."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah. He's a lot older than me, and he's got his own family now. He's a Squib."

"Oh."

"I wonder if there's any virtual reality spells - wouldn't that be cool? We'd need a gym though. Shame there isn't one here."

"There might be, we haven't done much exploring yet!"

"That's true," he said thoughtfully.

They went back to the the common room, checking over their Herbology homework one last time, but Ray faded pretty fast and said goodnight.

The next day went by without much out of the ordinary. While on their run, Ray asked Kev if there was a way she could practice with brooms, and he invited her to the stadium after classes where he and a few other flyers usually hung around and worked on homework in the stands. Potter was bearable - there were only a few grumbles between them when they tried to best the other in points. Then it was evening, and then it was morning, and it wasn't until she left breakfast that Ellen finally caught up to her.

"Ray! Ray!"

"Yeah?" she asked, bewildered at her sudden appearance. Zach and Kendra waited with her, and Ellen looked between them for a moment before swallowing.

"About Potter yesterday -"

"What?"

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I... I know it's not all you. I didn't want you to think that's what I meant."

"Oh, uh, okay, thanks."

"And I understand what you mean by him not learning, if he gets his way all the time. I get that too."

"Okay."

"I tried to talk to you yesterday, but you weren't in the common room -"

She grinned. "I was out practicing with brooms."

"Oh! Well, that's good, how'd it go?"

"It was pretty fun. I need to get some shorts though, my friend said skirts weren't the best thing when up in the air."

"Oh!"

Ray laughed, and Ellen joined in after a moment's hesitation.

"Well, I've got to go off to Herbology," she said.

"Yeah, have fun!"

She smiled and hurried off, and Ray, Zach, and Kendra went the rest of the way to Potions, which was on the main floor near the Entry Hall. She was glad Ellen had said something - she was really trying to be better friends, and that was a good feeling to have, particularly when there were nasty people like Monica and Cole around.

The Potions room was one of Ray's favorites. It had huge windows overlooking the grounds, allowing plenty of sunlight and fresh air to enter when the days were nice. The desks were a bit uncomfortable, but had plenty of room for all your things; the stuffed cubbies below the countertops had a friendly level of mess, and every one of the walls were crowded with all sorts of instructional posters, description pages for ingredients, and detailed figures of cauldrons and other brewing pieces. But the best part was Professor McDonnell herself, whose enthusiasm got Ray excited like not many of the other professors were able.

As they entered, Ray took in the crowd: all the Hufflepuffs were there, which made sense as their common room was so close. Potter was in the back row, and Ray begrudgingly led them further in. She spotted Trip, who was sitting in the middle and talking with a friend, and he nodded to her as they made eye contact. She smiled - at least _he_ was in their group.

They took seats in the second row back from the front.

"Good morning, everyone!" Professor McDonnell called, entering the room at a hurry. Only about half the students called back, but she didn't seem bothered. She dropped her satchel on her desk, pulled out a large, bright piece of chalk, and smiled at everyone. "Big day today! Is everyone ready to find out about their projects?"

There was a general murmur of consent, and she began taking roll. She did this in a pretty amusing way - she would point to a kid and say their name, as if testing to make sure she had it memorized. Once or twice she would make a mistake and apologize, but Ray was still impressed with how fast she was getting everyone. They weren't even finished with September, and if she was the only professor in her subject then she probably had hundreds of other students to memorize too.

"Okay," she called, and everyone came to attention again. "Can anyone tell me what this is?"

She'd drawn a giant star on the chalkboard. It shimmered from one color to another in an fascinating way, and Ray wished for the hundredth time since starting school that they'd had a bit more money when they were in Diagon Alley. Nate Zoldik, who was sitting with his friend on the opposite side of the room in the front row, raised his hand to answer.

"A pentagram."

"Good job! Take a point to Hufflepuff! Now, can anyone tell me what meaning it might have, in relation to magic?"

Nate raised his hand again, and Professor McDonnell nodded for him to continue.

"I've heard it described as each of the points representing one of the four classical elements, with the point on top referring to the mind. I've also seen it upside down, which reverses the power structure, though I'm not quite sure what that means, and then with another interpretation that assigns each point to one of the senses."

Professor McDonnell beamed at him - "Well done, have two more points!"

Nate gave a controlled nod, and Ray had the suspicion he was rather pleased with himself. Hopefully he wouldn't turn out to be another Cole.

Kendra raised her hand, once Professor McDonnell was done labelling the points _spirit, water, fire, earth,_ and _air_.

"What does this have to do with our projects?"

"An excellent question! In fact, the pentagram has little to do with Potions at all, and you won't be seeing much of it until your third year, or even later! However, it's never too early to start familiarizing yourself, and so I have chosen to make it the subject of our projects this year. Now, quills and parchment, please, or paper and pen, however you like…"

There was much looking around to see who would pull out paper and pen, but nobody dared. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway - Professor McDonnell dove right into the project description, and everyone quickly forgot about writing materials in their scramble to ready themselves.

"Water, Earth, Fire, Air," she spoke. "Long ago, the four elements were thought to exist in harmony and make up _everything_ in our world. It was believed only the fifth element, spirit, could master them, and bring them into the forms and beings we see around us.

"But of course, that understanding evolved over time, with alchemists introducing several new classifications, and magical chemists bringing us into the complex and highly intricate world of atoms. That said, the four elements continued to be used in ritualistic practices, exotic spellcrafting, dark magic, and as references and metaphors in philosophy and Magical Theory!

"This year, you and your brewing team are assigned the task of producing… a Potion of Manifestation."

There were a few gasps, but everyone continued to scribble notes down.

"Oh - sorry! You don't need to write down anything before that. But, yes, _now_ you should start. Let's see… for those of you who don't know, a Potion of Manifestation is an extremely powerful and dangerous potion that amplifies one's ability to perform wordless, wandless summonings. Not only are these potions extremely expensive to make, but they are extraordinarily complex and can land you in a load of trouble if you misuse them. Furthermore, if brewed improperly, they can cause some of the most gruesome side-effects of any potion out there, and more often than not, death. These unfortunate topics will be the subject of one of your upcoming homeworks.

"Of course, Manifestation Potions - also known as POMs -" she said, writing it out on the board - "only reach the highest levels of danger when brewed to their utmost potency. As with most magic, the greater the power, the more difficult the preparation, and the greater the cost of your mistakes. Seeing as you are all in your first year, the POMs you will be brewing will be of the most basic level, and grant powers no stronger than the charms you will be learning right here at Hogwarts. But make no mistake! These are in no way easy to put together. In fact, as mentioned on Syllabus Day, your final POMs will serve as your end-of-term evaluations! As such, we will be working our way toward them, rather than starting out with them immediately. This is your very first potions class. You are going to need to start from the basics. So, let's hear a few ideas - who knows the most important part of making a quality potion?"

There was a moment of silence, then someone in the back gave an answer.

"Following the instructions?"

She laughed - "Yes, very good, take a point! Not adding things when they're meant to, adding something extra, or forgetting to put something in can all turn your Hiccoughing Potion into a table-melting disaster! As a reminder, class, if you answer a question correctly you'll automatically receive a point. Now, who else? Yes?"

It was Kendra - "Making sure you have clean equipment."

"Good, just as was said in the lesson-before-last. Toad slime and witchwater are good for both brewing and cleaning, and we will have lessons about each!"

Nate's voice spoke out (he was really going for the points, Ray thought). "Being prepared? As in, having all your ingredients ready, having enough time, and being in a safe area?"

"Ooo, good one! One of those is particularly important, anyone know what it is?"

"Having enough time?" tried his friend.

"That's important, but I was thinking of the _ingredients_. The quality of your ingredients directly impacts the characteristics of your potion - if you use fresh newt eyes rather than dried ones it'll be fast-acting as intended, if you use crushed pearls instead of powdered ones it might turn into a concrete sludge. That's why your lessons this year will revolve around what you're putting in your pots! Ingredients are the basis of every recipe, and need to be understood for you to become master brewers. As we proceed through our lectures you will learn how to collect them, store them, and choose the good from the bad. The potions you brew each week will give you practice with the ones you'll be using for your final POMs, and train you in the techniques you'll need when it comes time.

"Now, onto exactly _what_ kind of POMs you'll be brewing - there are POMs for just about every conjuring spell out there, but as I'm sure you've guessed, you'll be focusing on the elemental ones in order to tie in with the pentagram. If your batch is successful, not only will you earn full marks for your final exams, but I'll let you try them out yourselves that period!"

Kendra gaped at Ray and Zach. That might have been the first time Ray'd ever seen her excited about anything.

"You will be heavily supervised during this session, if you do get to try yours out," Professor McDonnell said, over the storm of muttering. "But outside a few rules, you will have free reign. Enjoy it while it lasts, for you won't be able to develop abilities like these on your own for decades!

"However, first we have to get there. Starting next period, you and your group must collectively decide on whether to go after fire, water, earth, or air. As there are eight groups, the teams will be limited to only _two_ per element, and you will be working independently from one another! While each POM requires approximately the same amount of work, the path toward each element has its own advantages and disadvantages based on your skills. This is not a decision you should make quickly. As a group, you will need to decide what element is most achievable, then speak with other groups to make sure you get the one you want when it comes time. You have until next class, which is after the weekend, and I will be assigning a homework during that time to help you iron out the details…"

Professor McDonnell kept talking, but Ray's thoughts had shot off in excitement. They were doing fire. They were so, totally doing fire.

* * *

== Interesting Facts of Modern Magic ==

Ellen is wrong about Sun Spots.


	30. Evan (Part 3)

The night air billowed against her, stinging her cheeks where her scarf left exposed. It was cold, quite cold for September, but that's what you got when you spent weeks slogging through homework on end, cozied up in a castle… you got weak! She gripped the handle of her broomstick, fingers numbed even through the gloves, with the wind trying its best to overpower her hat's Sticking Charm. Now that she thought about it, a lot of the cold might have just been due to windchill - she'd been flying at breakneck speed for the last thirty minutes, and even with her slipstream at max there was only so much that could be done. So maybe it was just an average-temperature night.

But that wasn't to say she grouchy. She might be uncomfortable now, but this was exercise, and the rush and breathlessness that came after made it well worth it. She _loved_ flying, and she didn't care if people thought her strange when she tried to pull them along for a trip. It was _them_ who were missing out. Of course, sometimes people did agree to go with her - she thought of Julia, one of her old Ravenclaw friends, who worked as a supervisor in a self-repair enchantment installation business. She'd gone on a coastal flight with her one morning over the summer, and had expressed interest in going again, so maybe there still was _some_ willingness still out there. Although, Julia had made excuses and empty promises every time Alice offered after the fact, but you couldn't blame people... everyone had a busy life, after all.

Alice quite liked flying at night, coldness aside. For one, there wasn't the pressure to waste your magic on Aversion Wards. The chances of Muggles spotting you was practically nonexistent. Of course, she didn't need the wards anyway because of her Invisibility, but going around without Aversion was a sure way to land yourself a thirty-galleon fine from the Transportation Department. But there were other nice things too - nights were beautiful. The world took on an entirely different feel. The sea was dark and solid, the grassy fields had the gray, textureless uniformity of shadow (aside from the black shapes of trees every now and then), and everywhere that people lived, whether it be Wizard or Muggle, specks of light sparkled out beautifully in yellow, white, or blue. Sometimes, it made her feel like she was the only person in the world. Everyone else was cooped up in houses and buildings, living in little boxes like the terrariums in the Headmaster's office.

Unfortunately, she hadn't allowed herself to feel like that in a while. Most of the time, (even though she _tried_ not to), her mind was busy with the things going on in her life. At that moment, her satchel was full of packaged dragonfly bits for her fourth-years, as well as an _Arnica Cream_ which Erwin had asked her to pick up for his stump, and then there was Evan, who she was on the way to meet at that moment in the Three Broomsticks for a drink.

She dropped further and further from the misty clouds, headed for the scattering of lights that was Hogsmeade. The small, golden veins of its roadways grew in size and detail, and as she got closer, she registered the patterning of buildings - the restaurants by the lake, the stores lining the main road, the spiderwebbing of the homes and apartments as the town went up into the hillsides. The Three Broomsticks was a rather lumpy-shaped inn on the main street (or at least it looked it from above), with the smaller nub housing the kitchen, or so she imagined. The backside had a small, sectioned-off area for their dumpster, and then along the southern end was an alleyway separating it from the neighboring building. This, she made for. Alleyways provided plenty of cover to land in, un-invisible-ify herself, and find a spot to stow her _Ranger_. After delivering the welcome letters in the summer she'd decidedly chosen _not_ to try shoving it in her satchel again - not only did it usually tend to be full, but she'd had to do a rather extensive tune-up after the fact.

Holding her broom steady, she came in above Hogsmeade, aligned herself with the length of the alleyway, and began sinking. She was above the roofs... level with the roofs... coming down along the top part of the wall; was five feet off the ground, three feet - she hovered, then dropped the rest of the way, stumbling on her stiff legs as she made the landing. She stretched, took a deep breath, ended her Invisibility Charm, and strode out into the main street.

It really wasn't that busy - only a few groups of upper-years were about making their way back to the castle, or talking to each other outside shops. Pulling open the inn's door, she was greeted by its cheery warmth and, again, not that big of a crowd. There were a few professors at the bar who she didn't know ( _Music and Writing?_ she guessed), some middle-aged couples at the tables who she assumed were locals, a few singles immersed in their writers, and a few more upper-years that had committed to an outing rather than go for the free meals Hogwarts offered.

One of these groups was rather colorful. Alice strode over and tugged her scarf off her face, smiling.

"A Gryffindor, a Slytherin, and a Hufflepuff, huh?" she said, hand on a hip, skin tingling from the warmth. "This is a rather strange crowd!"

"Evening, Professor McDonnell!" grinned Samson Raltz, a Slytherin seventh-year. The other two nodded, with the Gryffindor giving her a curious look.

"Not here for Potions, are you?" she asked. Part of her was worried she'd asked too much on their most recent homework.

"Not at all!" Samson said. "Here for extra-curricular activities, as a matter of fact!"

The Gryffindor shot him a look, but he continued to grin confidently.

"Well alright," she winked. "You all have a nice meal!"

"Thanks, love," said the bleary-eyed Hufflepuff, and she and the other two erupted into laughter. (Apparently, he hadn't caught that she was a professor.)

Continuing into the inn, Alice spotted Evan in a booth near the bar. Catching sight of her, he raised a hand.

"Hello there!" he called. Before him were three individual piles of collated papers, one of which he was leafing through.

"Hey! I didn't keep you long, did I?"

"No, not at all," he said. "I was just going through a few articles. How are you?"

"Good," she said, setting up her broom and taking a seat opposite him. She lowered her voice, grinning mischievously - "You know, I think I just passed some seventh-years having a rather _alternative_ Herbology discussion, if you know what i mean."

His eyebrows raised and he gave a bark of laughter. "Well you've got to get through school somehow, don't you?" His eyes went to her broom. "Did you fly here?"

 _She'd forgotten to stow her broom!_ Well... that explained the curious look the Gryffindor gave her.

"Oh, you know, just thought I'd sweep up a little on the way over," she joked.

"In your flying robes?"

"...Alright, you caught me! I was out doing some errands."

She waved at one of the servers, and they started making their way over.

He was still looking at her.

"You didn't Apparate?"

"No," she said. "Felt like flying."

"Ah - I'm sorry," he said, reading her face - "it's just a bit unusual to see, I can't help but get curious."

The server arrived.

"What can I get started for you, m'am?"

"What have you got on tap?"

"Butterbeer, Red Currant Rum, Gillywater, Mulled Mead -"

"Mead sounds lovely."

"Of course. Just a pint, then?"

"Yes, please!"

The server checked on Evan and left, and a fraction of a moment passed before he cleared his throat and spoke again.

"So - erm - you ever do any _alternative herbology_ when you were in school?"

She laughed. "Oh, a bit, but no more than anyone else. Usually before Quidditch games, sometimes before the winter balls or on a Hogsmeade trip… oh, and in the after-Quidditch parties, of course!"

"I thought Ravenclaws weren't big on that kind of thing?"

"Well, it was with the Gryffindors, you see."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I… was seeing a boy from the house, during my third and fourth years. Gryffindors throw some of the most rambunctious parties!" she laughed. "I worried they'd wake up the whole castle, sometimes!"

He smiled. "There was a bit of that in Slytherin, too. I had a friend - well, I knew someone, in any case - who made some _very_ special Pumpkin Pasties."

"Ohh, those can be dangerous!"

"Yes, they can."

"Did you go to many Quidditch games, then?"

"Oh, no, but you can't really avoid the House celebrations, can you?"

"You can if you're in Ravenclaw."

He smirked. "Well, Slytherins aren't so lucky. No, I never did much in the way of clubs and activities. I was with Chess for a few years when I first started, but dropped after my third to focus on my classes."

"I love Wizard's Chess, I haven't played in ages!"

"Well, maybe we should play sometime."

"You're _on,_ " she said.

The server came over again - "Your mead, m'am?"

"Thanks!"

"So…" she said, taking a sip. Then a gulp. (She was actually very thirsty, after her flight.) "Mm. So, I think last time we talked, you mentioned the Muggle nuclear weapons program, and how it related to You-Know-Who?"

"Oh, wanting a history lesson, are you?"

"I must admit I am a bit curious, and I haven't had much opportunity to check out their archives for myself. Not to mention I haven't done _much_ studying of what led up to the Dark War, even though my uncle fought."

"Overseas? How's he doing, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Just fine, thankfully. He stuck to the supply runs as much as he could, so he managed to avoid a lot of the grislier aspects of the war."

"Sounds like a smart man."

He drank a bit of what she thought was a stout, then organized his papers off to the side. "So, what do you know about their nuclear program, so far?"

"Not much of anything. I know it stopped their Second World War, and led to a lot of tension, but little else. They've got to do with atoms, don't they?"

"Oh yes. Now, I won't claim to be much of an expert myself, but I can tell you that what Muggles know about atomics _far_ outweighs anything we do. You ever hear of Operation Bog Down?"

She laughed. "Only stories, when I was a kid. They made a few Memoramas, didn't they?"

"They did! And, most of it's true, if a bit simplified for storytelling. What do you remember?"

"Well… they were always about some task force from the Muggle Relations Department, weren't they? The, er, operatives, would have to sneak in amongst the Muggle government, diffuse one of their 'New Clear' Bombs before it got set off (of course we didn't know they were _Nuclear_ until a few years later), then find some way to resolve their issues for them. Sometimes they'd get special objects from the Department of Mysteries, if I remember correctly… it was all very action-packed."

He laughed. "Yes, they sure were fun. Well, as with all stories, there's an element of truth to them. Operation Bog Down wasn't just single point-of-interference missions like the memos had them out to be, but was a complicated infiltration program that took nearly a decade to establish, and formed the basis of what the Muggle Relations Department is today. Or, as some call it -"

"The Muggle Suppression Department."

"Just so. Operation Bog Down never ended, it evolved, and is bigger today than it ever planned to be. The more we got involved with Muggles, the more we realized just how much bogging-down they needed, and as our governments got better informed, we started cooperating on a more international level. Muggle Suppression was one of the biggest factors in getting the treaties signed."

"The Bulgarians also let out that Rampant Inferius Curse, didn't they?"

"They did… grisly business, that. It's still a miracle we managed to keep the Muggles from catching wind of it."

"How was that done, anyway?" she asked, drinking. "Seeing as it was such a catastrophe."

"Same way they always do with large-area events - blame it on one of their drug-resistant diseases, quarantine the area, and fake news pieces about relief efforts. Then you cause some political or cultural distraction in one of their more developed countries, and they all change the channels on their tellies."

She frowned, and drank more of her mead.

"It still surprises me how easy it is to cover things up," he said. "Give them something socially controversial and they'll flock to it like fairies to a sugar trap."

"Hmm. So, about their nuclear weapons program," she reminded him. "What were they really? I understand it was an arms-race of sorts, but the bombs were never as powerful as they were made out to be, were they?"

"You mean, strong enough to bite a chunk out of the world?"

She nodded.

He raised his eyebrows. "Honestly, they nearly were. The earliest ones turned entire cities into deserts, and cursed the air with a sickness that lasted for years and affected anyone who came close. In some instances, their devices - which they'd reworked to make electricity - made entire cities uninhabitable after breaking down. You've heard of Chernobyl?"

"Of course, they're still trying to come up with wards that last more than an hour there."

"Exactly. And those were just early ones. They've kept up with them, making them stronger and less intrusive, and if it wasn't for Bog Down the world would probably look like one of the other planets in our solar system right now."

Alice gaped at him - "You've got to be joking!"

He shrugged.

"Well… good thing for Bog Down, then."

"Indeed. The sad part is, it hasn't done that much in getting the devices. They stopped making the memos because people got tired of them, but the fact of the matter is there's still thousands of them out there, waiting to go."

"Then it's doubly-good they didn't get involved in the Dark War."

"Yes, but maybe not in the way you're thinking. It was good Muggles were kept from knowledge of wizardry, that much is certain."

"But _not_ that they didn't use their weapons?"

"If they'd used their weapons, or if the _threat_ of their weapons was even present, it's unlikely the Dark War would have happened at all. A single one could have ended the entire thing, and the death toll and, er, social damages, would have been a lot lower."

"So you'd rather have a _bite_ taken out of the world?"

"I wouldn't rather anything. Things happened the way they did, and I'm still not sure what the better of the two options would be, in all honesty. The point is, if Muggles caught wind of us - which is only a matter of time, to be frank - who knows what could have happened. Some say the things in the Dark War would turn commonplace, and if we layer that on with all the _other_ disasters going on around the world… well then Mars or Venus might start looking pretty nice."

She stared at him, not sure if the information he had was exaggerated or not. She'd heard some terrible things about the Muggle world, but she'd always assumed they were sensationalized and tried to ignore them - she'd done plenty of flying around their cities, and they didn't look _that_ bad.

"And who, exactly, is saying these things?" she asked, downing the rest of her mead.

"Sociologists. Experts in Muggle-studies. A few of _their_ sociologists have even come on for advising purposes (getting obliviated afterward, of course), and their outlook on things were even worse."

"Okay. Okay," she said, waving her hand. "So the world's ready to catch on fire. What's _stopping_ it?"

"Well there's plenty stopping it! Everyone's trying, for one thing. Muggles on their end, Wizards on ours. The biggest problem is making sure the public is kept nice and manageable, and thankfully that's not too hard."

"Oh. Yep. I've heard of this. Just keep everyone boxed up and scared, and nobody will toe the line."

"More or less. Control the flow of information, and you control your population. Say... have you eaten recently?"

"What," she said, suppressing a burp. "Oops, sorry! What, were you thinking about dinner?"

"I'm not hungry myself, but if you felt like ordering something I wouldn't mind."

She looked at him, wondering what he was going on about, then caught sight of her empty pint glass and realized, yes, she'd hardly eaten anything all day, and had just spent a good portion of it out and about on her broom.

She stuck her hand in the air and the server came over.

"How are you finding everything, m'am?"

"Lovely, thank you… I was wondering, could I order some food?"

"Of course!"

"Hey, you've got a pencil!" she noticed. (They'd gotten out their notepad.)

The server smiled at her quizzically. "Yes, quills are a bit of trouble when it comes to restaurants. So, you know what you'd like?"

She hadn't thought of that.

"I hear they make a decent kebab," Evan suggested.

"One of those, please."

The server confirmed a few more details (the pencil scribbling away on its own) then went off, but popped back real quick to deliver her another pint of mead.

"So, last time," she went on, "you mentioned there were some connections between their program and You-Know-Who. What did you mean by that?"

"Right! That's actually a rather interesting comparison, and not one I can take credit for. It was an old coworker of mine who came up with it.

"To start off, in Muggle history, the nuclear weapons program ended the Second World War (as you said), and left two of the allied powers - the Soviets and the Americans - at odds with one another. Of course, there were tensions before that because of their political differences, but without the common enemy hostilities rose. The point where the comparison starts, is that while Americans possessed nuclear technology, the Soviets did not. As a result, the Soviets rapidly developed their own in order to not be at their mercy. At least, that's my understanding."

"So, in this comparison, the Americans are You-Know-Who, and the Soviets are the Ministry of Magic?"

"No, not quite. Remember, the Americans possessed nuclear weapon technology, and the Soviets did not. So, if nuclear weapon technology represents powerful dark magic…"

Alice raised her eyebrows, nonplussed, and took another sip of mead.

"Consider the situation from an outside perspective. The Dark War was fought between us, the Scandinavians, and the Bulgarians, right?"

"Right."

"Now, we were never on the greatest of terms with the Scandinavians. Durmstrang was always a bit more inclined toward darker magics than Hogwarts was, as an example…"

"So the Scandinavians are the Soviets?"

"Right."

"But that means that You-Know-Who… was… wait, who's the Ministry of Magic?"

"The Ministry of Magic is the Americans. You-Know-Who is the nuclear weapons program."

Alice paused.

"But you said dark magic was the program?"

"In this situation, they're the same. Voldemort was the center point of all the terror, and so he wasn't seen as separate, at least by foreign powers."

"But how can they tie him in with the Ministry? He _ravaged_ Britain, both the magical and non-magical parts!"

"It's true, but to a foreign body, it all seemed like the outcome of shady, underhand work, didn't it? Think about from their view. The uprising of a single terrorist organization isn't too out of place - happens all the time - but the circumstances surrounding its defeat, not to mention its return, were far too suspicious not to raise questions."

"How so?"

"Well, think about the press being put out. A single man and a handful of followers were able to turn the entire country into a madhouse. The Ministry fell apart, and the only real resistance was offered by Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, who were really no better than a vigilante group. Why'd the entire government collapse? Why was so much distrust present? How could so few people have caused everything to go to pieces?"

"So, to them, it looked like something had gone sour in the Ministry itself."

"Exactly. It was either that, or sheer incompetence, which (if we're being honest with ourselves) might've been closer to the truth. But the most suspicious thing of all, that practically confirmed the idea for them, was that in a single night the Hand of God came out of nowhere and stopped the whole thing."

"You're talking about Harry Potter?"

"Yep."

"But, there was a prophecy that predicted that! It wasn't just some random event, it was fated to happen _years_ in advance, and the universe arranged itself - or whatever - to make it happen!"

"But who's going to believe that? Where's the proof?"

"The Hall of Prophecy."

"The records of which are only accessible by specific people, and all of whom were practiced in Legilimency and so couldn't be trusted under Veritaserum. Not to mention, by the time the Prophecy was announced to the public, the entire Hall was destroyed."

"Well... it does sound pretty bad, when you put it like that."

"It definitely does. And, not to mention, if you're already suspicious of a government, then you're going to take whatever story they give you and assume it's only what they want you to hear, and that the underlying reality has to be a lot worse. As a result, the Potter incident may have been the single greatest factor that put other countries on the alert, and so sent us down the path toward the Dark War."

"You're not blaming the _Potter_ family?"

"Not directly! Many historians agree that the Potters were just an instrument of Dumbledore's and acted on his direction, without knowing the larger picture."

"So you're blaming Dumbledore?"

He grimaced. "I'm not blaming anyone. But the people 'in the know' at the time were pretty limited. It _could_ have been that Lily Potter stumbled across some ancient sacrificial ritual of her own accord, or that it was just a lucky accident. I'm just saying, those aren't very likely. There is a more likely explanation, however, where she learned of it from the Death-Eater-turned-Phoenix Severus Snape, who was more than familiar with dark arts himself and had a rather unhealthy obsession with her."

"I know of Severus Snape! He's famous in the Potions field! He revolutionized the way we thought about brewing techniques and recipe construction; he was a genius!"

Evan raised his hands in defense - "I meant nothing by it. I'm sure he knew his stuff, and I've read plenty of great things about him."

"Oh - no, I wasn't offended," she stammered, "I was just surprised you'd heard about him. Honestly… I actually agree with you. He was a rather sorry person in life, sad to say."

He shrugged, took a drink, and she copied him.

"Well, whatever the case, that incident -" he said - "the night the Potter family re-introduced a way to block the Killing Curse - the entire world was caught by surprise. That was more than enough to turn a few heads, I'm sure you'd agree. If it was _actually_ just a rogue terrorist group, there's no way they would've been able to stop them so suddenly, right at the height of their power."

"I suppose..."

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her food flying toward her along the ceiling. She cleared the way in front of her, pulling off her riding gloves to ready herself. The food came down - first the plate, then a fork and knife, a napkin, and finally the serving lid popped off and zoomed back toward the kitchen, the swirls of kebab steam trailing after. Her stomach growled and she quickly dug in.

"So… if it was such a revolutionary thing," she said, sticking a bit of salad and the unidentifiable, sauce-smothered kebab meat in her mouth, "Why... didn't..." she covered herself and swallowed embarrassingly, "Sorry! Why didn't foreign interests get involved?"

"Oh they did," he said, chuckling at her. "There were a number of inquiries, but Dumbledore had decent success in passing it off as a miracle, and the majority of people were just happy for the hard times to be over with. The biggest theory _was_ that it had been a sacrificial ritual, actually, but almost nobody in Britain looked into it further. We just called it a lucky break, praised Harry Potter as the Boy-Who-Lived, and got busy picking ourselves up off the ground. Since nothing else came of it for a time afterward, the foreign interest faded."

"They were, just, okay not having answers?"

"I don't think they were _okay_ with it, I don't think any truly curious individual would be. I bet there were loads of talks conducted in private. But the Ministry didn't know anymore than anyone else, seeing as Dumbledore was the only man with all the facts. You could tell some things were happening because of the funding the Department of International Magical Cooperation got in those years, and the foreign wizards that migrated over and earned citizenship. And then, there were the Quidditch World Cups during that time, and the Triwizard Tournament getting fired back up after being discontinued for nearly two hundred centuries. There was definitely some foreign presence, but as I said, nothing ever came up and the money and personnel resources were reallocated to where they were needed."

"And then when Voldemort came back, and they got suspicious all over again."

"Yes, but not immediately. There was plenty to convince everyone he was gone for good, you know, so it came as just as much of a shock for them as it did to us."

"What made everyone so sure?"

"About him being dead?"

She nodded in the middle of eating more kebab.

"Well, the Ministry was pretty open about things. They wanted to redeem themselves and rebuild their relations, both domestically and abroad. Plus, all the Death Eaters disbanded or were sent to Azkaban, and Voldemort's corpse and wand were found at the scene and proven legitimate. So his death was, really, pretty convincing. When he first came back, everyone thought it was a true return to life, and they jumped after any old magic they could get their hands on. That's why -"

"The Scandinavians got involved with the Bulgarians, yep."

Alice knew the rest of it - the area around Bulgaria was one of the richest in ancient magical artifacts and writings, and having already been on friendly terms with the Scandinavians, there was no reason not to let them in. With Britain seemingly have found a way to stop the Killing Curse _and_ bring people back from the dead, there was what looked like an incredible imbalance in magical power, and that was enough to get them on their toes. Demands were made for transparency, but obviously the Ministry didn't have anything to show anyone. So spies were sent over, travel restrictions were put in place, tensions simmered. Then, after years of talks between Britain and the Scandinavians, all the things that happened toward the end of the Second Wizarding War came to light - _Priori Incantatem_ phantoms, the Elder Wand and other Deathly Hallows, Horcruxes, the capabilities of elf and goblin magic...

"No wonder they were so furious," Alice said. "We must have looked the world's biggest hypocrites."

"Yeah. It's a shame. All those efforts to keep people from using dark magic, all those declarations and agreements to not practice things that intentionally put harm toward others… nullified at the drop of a hat."

"So… it was really more of a false nuclear weapons program."

He shrugged. "That's how it goes. But in the end, it hardly made a difference. Poor communication leads to mounting hostilities, and the next thing you know you have an arms race, true just as much for countries as it is for schoolyard enemies."

"A shame for the Bulgarians, though."

"Yes. But we really couldn't have gotten involved any sooner. If we'd forced ourselves into the situation, it would have been like we were just another invading army, and even _more_ conflict would have come of it."

"We could have offered!"

"That's true, but none of us wanted to get involved, remember. Back in those days, everyone thought of dark magic and the dark arts as evil - moral corruption, bodily disfigurement, sacrifices and curses, the breeding of Dementors and basilisks… it wasn't until we were asked for help that we managed to change the public opinion. It became a necessity. And it helped that things like Lily Potter's sacrifice fell into the same category, technically speaking."

"Still, though, some of the stories I heard of what the Scandinavians did…"

"Our hands weren't completely clean either, you know."

"I've… heard some things, but that was wartime, wasn't it? Who knows what sort of situations they found themselves in!"

"You're blaming the war?"

"I'm blaming dark magic! It's true that not all of it is evil, but there _is_ a lot that still is - even most of it, I'd say."

"Maybe. Or, maybe we're not as morally upright as we like to think, deep down."

"Evan, from what I heard, some of the things that happened were _monstrous._ On all sides. There's no way people would do that under normal circumstances!"

"You mean, away from dark magic?"

"Yes!"

"I'm sorry to say, but I'm not so sure. History is an ugly thing. I mean, look at the world right now - sure, we're civil, but we've got food. We've got fresh water, and medicine, and a functional governing system. But if you look at parts of Africa, or Central America, or Eastern Asia..."

"But that's different, those are -" she stopped herself.

"Muggle areas?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. He sighed.

"I'm sorry. I've just… seen some things, working at the hospital, and I might be a bit disillusioned. We like to think we're special, but in situations where we lose the things we take for granted, you get reminded just how much of animals we are."

A silence fell over them.

"Well, this has been a fun conversation," she said, drinking her mead.

"It's not a pleasant topic. But you know, for however much darkness there is in us, there's just as much light. I mean, we've been to Mars, haven't we? What other animals have done that? And that was with hardly any magic involved."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"And you know, a lot of bad things happened in the Dark War, but look at us now. We're working together to try and make the world a better place. The Muggles got their kick in the butt, it was only a matter of time until we got ours."

"That's true…"

Alice finished her kebab, and Evan had an embarrassing moment where he dropped his half-full pint of stout in his lap.

"What did you _do?"_ she laughed, as he fumbled with his wand.

"Just… lost my grip on it," he said, and siphoned himself off.

The server rushed over.

"Would you like another drink, sir?"

"No, no, that's okay. In fact, I'd like to pay, if I could."

"Sure. Is it together, or…?"

"Separate," said Alice.

"Very good. I'll be right back," they said, and hurried off to their till.

"So, want to head back to the castle?" Evan asked. "You said you know about Dumbledore and Snape, why not fill me in on some of the details? I'd be interested to hear more about their accomplishments. Didn't Dumbledore discover the Twelve Uses of dragon's blood?"

"He did," she smiled. "Of course, four of those were supplanted by Skrewt hemolymph just after the turn of the century…"

They talked for a while about nicer things, the server coming over at one point and getting their payment, and the two of them went up to the castle. Evan's eyes wandered once or twice to her broomstick, and she knew he was dying to ask about it, but thankfully he restrained himself. Inevitably, they returned to talking about history again, about the importance a person can have on the course of the world… how Dumbledore used Snape, how Granger conducted the Talks, how the Muggles shifted everyone's priorities. They decidedly avoided talking about the nasty parts of the war, and even dark magic in general - for even though there wasn't anything _inherently_ evil about it, there was no denying that it left a rather nasty taste on your tongue.


	31. Wendy (Part 2)

One thing Hogwarts needed was _lifts_. She'd climbed two flights of stairs and been down three corridors, and was probably only thirty feet from where she'd started. Not to mention, she had her big broom and satchel with her, all of her flying robes (which were warm), and had to go all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. And, perhaps, she might have had too much mead at the Three Broomsticks.

Pausing at a T-branch, she consulted her writer for the second time in her journey. She'd splurged on a Hogwarts Page during the first year in her teaching and it'd come in handy countless times ever since: on it was the tiny figurine of witch, representing herself, and proceeding ahead of it was a set of footprints showing her the quickest way to go. Following its direction, she squeezed through three passageways she'd forgotten about, avoided a misaligned stairwell, and not even ten minutes later came before the Head of Gryffindor House's office. A sigh of relief (needless to say) followed this.

Before knocking, she took a moment to compose herself, and in doing so recognized the distinct clamoring of the common room from the floor below. That was odd, she thought - it was a bit early in the year for parties. But maybe that was Gryffindor for you.

She knocked.

"Enter," said a voice.

Moving herself through the doorway, she came into Erwin's office. It was well-organized, if a bit cluttered in one or two of the more-used places. Thick, maroon curtains hung at the windows, their drawstrings tasseled with gold. To her left was a coat rack sporting a very soldiery-looking set of robes, and all along the walls were bookshelves full of with thick, blocky volumes and a glass frames bearing certificates and service medals. In one spot was a set of very dangerous and unusual-looking swords, which looked to have gotten some inspiration from meat cleavers in their designs. The sharp hint of shoe polish hung in the air, but next to the lamp's oil, homework parchment, and ever-present scent of sweat it didn't draw much attention.

It was like the universe had been listening to her and Evan's conversation and filled yet another part of her night with reminders of the war.

At the desk sat Erwin, currently engaged in marking down papers.

"Professor McDonnell," he said, looking up.

She laughed - "I've told you a hundred times, just Alice!"

The most noticeable thing about Erwin was his stern expression. He was young enough that you wouldn't think him to have the countenance he did (he couldn't have been much over thirty, she was sure), but the more you spent time with him, the more fitting it seemed. He was very Aryan and Germanic in appearance, with blond hair, blue eyes, and eyebrows that never seemed to move. His gaze was piercing, and she was sure he used it to its full potential when quelling the behavior of rambunctious students. However, despite being coworkers for three years now, there was a lot she still didn't know about him - only that he'd been involved in cleaning up the proxy fighting and leftover skirmishes, she knew, but there wasn't much else. On his left hung an empty sleeve, of course, speaking further of his harrowing past.

"I trust your night's going well?" said Erwin, returning to his papers.

"Just lovely, thank you," she said. "Yours?"

"The same, more or less."

Alice hoisted her satchel onto the back of the visitor-chair and went in shoulder-deep. Erwin watched her and she laughed embarrassedly.

"Did it cost any more than what I gave you?" asked Erwin.

"Actually, it was only ten galleons and _three_ sickles," she said. "I've got your change here too -"

He raised a hand. "Please, keep it. Consider it a thanks for going out of your way."

"Oh, no, it wasn't any trouble!"

"Please. It's not much. It would sit better with me if you were compensated."

"Well… okay, thanks!"

She found the cylinder.

"You have my gratitude," he said, taking it from her.

"It was nothing! Always glad to be of help. We've got to have each other's backs, don't we?"

"Indeed. Would you like to sit?"

"Yes," she said gratefully, making her way around and plunking into the chair.

A moment passed, and there was a distinct bang from the common room below, followed by a number of people going _"Ohhhh!"_.

She laughed. "Say, er - sorry, but what's going on with your House? That level of noise isn't typical for this time of the year, is it?"

"Not particularly," he sighed. He turned his attention to the cream can, holding it in place with one hand while the lid unscrewed by an unseen force. "They _have_ been a bit unruly tonight. I believe it to be because of the point chart and the club sign-ups."

"Oh, right." _The clubs._

With a thumb he pushed off the left side of his coat and worked at the knot in his sleeve, which was tied right at the end of his stump.

"I hope you don't mind," he said.

"Oh, no," she said, eyes widening.

He rolled the sleeve up, revealing a gnarled bit of arm attached to his shoulder. Across the face of it was a thick, branching scar, with the surrounding skin stretched and pulled toward the centers. Next to the combed and manicured appearance of the rest of him, the stump contrasted so much she could hardly believe it belonged to him.

"It didn't heal well," he grumbled, noticing her look. "Not much could be done. Such was the nature of the wound."

He scooped some cream with two fingers and dabbed it over the knobbly surface.

"It also didn't help that I couldn't receive medical attention until three days after the fact. But I was prepared to pay far greater of a price if it meant the continued stability of mankind."

Alice said nothing. Erwin finished massaging in the cream, then sighed and let his sleeve fall. He pulled the side of the coat back on, then sank back in his chair and slouched rather uncharacteristically.

"So, do you not approve of the point chart?" Erwin asked.

"Huh?"

"Your tone seemed disapproving. To be honest, it has proven to be a controversial move amongst the other House Heads."

"Oh!No, it's not that. It's just the Apparition Club... it takes place in the Great Hall, right outside the Pearl, and, er, the popping and cracking noises make me a bit sick."

Erwin considered her.

"I understand. Have you thought about a Silencing Ward?"

"I have," she said. "But installing new enchantments on Hogwarts infrastructure is a slow and difficult job. I've got a toggle-able one on my hat, though!" she said, giving the brim a proud tug. "But even still, it's just something I have to grit my teeth and bare for the most part."

Another bang came, making her jump, followed by more shouting. Erwin straightened in his seat.

"That's something I might be able to relate to, I think," he said.

"Are you going to check on them?"

"If it happens a third time, I will. But the students deserve rest after a week of courses."

She smiled - "That's kind of you."

"Indeed," he said, stowing the cream.

"Well... I better let you get back to your things."

"Thank you, Alice."

"Good luck with your house!"

"See you in the morning."

Standing, she went back into the hallway and shut the door behind her. Being a core teacher, _on top_ of being a House Head... Erwin had it rough.

Starting back toward the main part of the castle, she checked her writer and found there were three tabs sticking out. They must have gone completely under her notice! Bracing herself, she opened the first Contact Page, which belonged to Gregor, and found he'd only added a single line to their conversation from earlier.

Gregor: _How about an internet cafe downtown? I might do some work afterward._

Alice: _Sure, where?_

G: _Let's try Cafe au Cacao_

G: _Sounds french haha_

A: _I like the sound of that :)_

A: _The 'cacao' part ;P_

G: _Great, I'll see you there._

G: _Good seeing you! Want to meet again next Sat?_

Kicking herself for not seeing it sooner, she scribbled out an apology and accepted, throwing in a heart for insurance purposes. Not only had she not noticed the entirety of the way up, but from the time-stamp it looked like he'd written her just after she'd left, so it'd been in her pocket for her entire flight and dinner too.

The next Page was Evan's.

A: _Otw, cu soon_

E: _Headed down._

E: _I'm here, let me know when you arrive and I'll wave to you!_

E: _Fun talk! I'm still on for Wizard's Chess :)_

Alice wrote " _Sounds good!"_ and went to the next page, which was Wendy's.

A: _Well if any of them *are* slimers, let me know ;)_

W: _Looks like 4 might be. Want to come down? I've got a bottle of Fairy's!_

That one had only been minutes ago, so the offer was still open. She stood there, considering, broom clenched in her elbow… if she was being honest with herself, she was really feeling quite tired from her day, and would prefer just going down to her quarters. But she hadn't spent time with Wendy in ages...

 _It's getting pretty late,_ she wrote hesitantly.

Wendy's reply began immediately. She must have her writer open at that very moment, but Alice felt like she was there and invisible and writing in the writer in her very hands.

 _It's a Saturday!_ wrote Wendy. _Still early in the year! You've got to pick your mushrooms as they bloom!_

Alice gave a half-smile.

A: _I'm not sure 'bloom' is what you use for mushrooms haha. But I really do have some work to do tonight, as well as in the morning..._

W: _What's Kingsley for then?_

A: _I don't want to ask too much of him._

W: _It's his job! Now come down! I need help with this bottle!_

Alice considered. She really hadn't had _too_ much mead, now that she thought about it, and Wendy did raise a good point - they'd be hard pressed to find time in a few weeks or so.

The muted chatter rose in the Gryffindor Common Room again, and Alice smirked. The night was young. _Pick your mushrooms as they bloom..._

 _Ugg, you win,_ she wrote, and started down the empty stairwells. Well, nearly empty - she came across a group of caretakers along the way (a gruff woman and two house-elves), who were mopping up outside the girls' bathroom on the second floor, and she gave a quick, nervous wave as she passed.

Wendy was out at the chicken coop as per usual. These were on the other side of the vegetable fields from the greenhouses, and if not for a slight dip in the geography and being tucked away in an un-forbiddened nook of the forest, they would've been in complete view of the castle's main entrance. In the darkness, the small wooden hut and its wired enclosure was like an oasis of light, silhouetting the trees and casting long shadows off the pebbles and roots in the path.

"Hello there!" Alice called, drifting down sideways on her broom.

"Well look at you!" Wendy called back. "Too lazy to walk, are you? Too much time cooped up indoors, and you forgot how to move your legs?"

"Feels like it!" she laughed. "I almost forgot how cold flying gets!"

"That's right, you went down to Glasgow today, didn't you?"

"Nearly."

Alice hopped off her broom and looked for the doorway amidst the chicken-wire. She always felt like a fox, coming here at night - prowling around in the dark, trying to get in at where the chickens were. The enclosure was a small area, not much bigger than ordinary sleeping quarters, and the ceiling was low enough that you had to crouch if you didn't want to bump your head or knock your hat off. The outdoor portion contained only straw and water troughs (which Wendy was busy cleaning), and the inside portion - well, Alice hadn't ever done more than poke her head in, but it seemed like just cramped rows of shelved chicken nests, feathers, straw, and droppings. It didn't yield many eggs - certainly not enough for the whole school - but that wasn't necessarily the point, and the shortages were made up for with imports just like with the vegetable fields.

She laid her _Ranger_ atop the chicken-wire roof and crouched her way inside. The water troughs were arranged around the perimeter, so she made for the dead center and conjured up a three-legged stool so Wendy could work around her.

"You meet up with Gregor?" Wendy asked over her shoulder. "How's he doing?"

"He's good! Busy, as usual."

"Taking on too many clients again?"

"I think so," Alice laughed. "He always does that! Gets way too much into his work, and forgets to have a life outside it."

"Well you two can relate on that front, can't you?"

Alice smiled, but Wendy continued working and didn't see.

"I've been trying to manage it better," Alice said. "It's just hard, when it's something you're so interested in, and you're given so much freedom over. But I do have a tendency to micromanage things, I suppose… once Kingsley's been at it longer I think I'll be comfortable giving him more."

Wendy kept working. From the looks of things, she was siphoning out something from under the water with the tip of her wand.

"That should be nice," she said finally. "So, you two meet for lunch, then?"

"We did! We went to a cafe downtown, a french place. They made a really nice chocolate shake, for a Muggle restaurant, and I wouldn't mind going back some time. In fact, I think Gregor's wanting to too, but I think I want to try for someplace closer since flying takes so much time. He's hoping to meet up again this weekend."

"Well, what if you have to go out for, what was it again, dragonfly eggs?"

Alice laughed. "Thoraxes. But yeah, maybe then. I was glad to see him though, I haven't gotten together with him at all since the summer ended, and it was good to catch up. But I think I embarrassed him, wearing my robes and everything."

"You wore that? With your hat and broomstick? Goodness, you'll be in their papers tomorrow I'm sure!"

"He said the same thing!" she laughed. "But I had Aversion up -"

"Right, right. Well, thank goodness for Aversion. Although, even if you didn't, who's to say? Some of those city-Muggles have an odd sort of dress, even by our standards."

"That's true!"

"Oh, here -" Wendy whipped off her squashy witch's hat and pulled out a bottle of Fairy's Rose, passing it to Alice. She began wrenching out the cork.

"So Gregor seems like he's doing okay, outside of the work?"

"I think so. Maybe a bit tense, but that's no more than you can expect being in a city."

"He's not taking their drugs, is he?"

"I hope not. I brought him a few potions that ought to last a month or two, but he doesn't see any reason not to use their medicines. Granted, he knows a bit more about them than I do, but still, those are some complex compounds they're dealing with and there's more than a few side-effects from what I've heard."

Wendy let out a bewildered puff in agreement.

"Plus there's their food he's always having to eat -" Alice went on - "all that caffeine, all that sugar, and then all the preservatives and salts…"

"Don't get me thinking about that stuff," Wendy said, waving a hand at the air. "It scares me, the things they do."

Alice started to reassure her that it's probably not as bad as she'd heard, and that it's not too much different from what wizards were starting to do, but she let it drop. Wendy had a tendency to get flustered over such topics.

Shivering, Alice took a swig of the pink, sparkly wine and crossed her legs against the cold.

"So what've you been up to?" she asked. "Why are you out here doing the chickens at midnight?"

"It's my first chance! I've been helping Hagrid prepare the mud flats all day for the skrewts."

"They're not roaming the grounds already, are they?"

"No, not yet, and they won't, provided we're able to keep them contained. The last breach we had was two years ago, remember that?"

"Vaguely..."

"Well that's better than having a good memory of it, isn't it? It was just one of them. And all that happened was it gave the thestrals a fright. He was able to wrestle it back to its pen eventually, before it got too far out in the forest."

"And you're quite sure you haven't lost any others over the years?"

"Oh yes! They're rather big, aren't they, not easy to go unnoticed! But that doesn't mean it's easy to keep them contained, mind. Lots of work needs to be done before the chill sets in and they can be left to it."

"Okay. So, what are you doing here?"

"For the winter? Not much, glad to say. I need to install warming charms on the water troughs and clear a spot for the air-fresher, and maybe put up a snow ward and hang some cabbage for them to peck at…"

"Are you doing that now?"

"Hmm? No, just, clearing out some gunk. Chickens like clean water, you know, and after a while it can get slimy. Which reminds me, I need to show you the toads! We can head up after I finish."

"No worries," she said, and took another sip of wine.

As if curious about their conversation, a bright blue chicken appeared at the entryway of the coop and stepped out into the straw. It approached Alice hesitantly, dinosaur-foot sinking into the straw. It cocked a brilliant yellow eye at Alice, which matched the yellow speckling over its plumage.

"There's Miss Jerri," Wendy introduced. "Very inquisitive, she is."

"She's got wonderful coloration! What's it off, do you know?"

"A Fizzfest poster, I believe - some rock band from Ireland."

"Oh, huh! Well, it's gorgeous!"

"She is rather striking, isn't she? I think she knows it, to. Ah, I love Auch Chickens! And they're always a hit with the first-years!"

"When are you doing them?"

"Spring, but starting in the late winter. I'll have to order a few more roosters before then, I think."

"Say, why isn't Hagrid giving you a hand?"

Wendy waved at the air, as if the idea was nonsense.

"Cleaning out water troughs? Naw, he went to go check on the Opaleye, and he can have at it as far as I'm concerned. That's not any kind of business I want to be a part of, or am even _able_ to be a part of, to be frank about it. They can be particularly touchy when they're brooding."

She stood from her work, stretched her back, and motioned for the bottle. Alice passed it, and she drank.

"But he's probably in bed by now," she said, after taking her swig. "I swear, he's either awake the night through or sleeps hard enough to be a bear in hibernation. He needs it, too, he can't just have a kip like me and jump back at it."

"But you are spreading the work evenly, aren't you?"

Wendy laughed.

"Certainly not! I'd be dead on my feet! I think you've got the wrong idea of how he and I operate, Alice. You always seem so concerned when there's absolutely no need to be. Here, let me think of an example… okay, if Hagrid is you, then I'd be Kingsley."

Alice's jaw dropped.

"But you're much more than just an assistant! You teach entire lessons, you plan things out, you do all your own ordering and structuring -"

Wendy waved at the air again.

"Okay, okay how about this… if we were preparing for a dinner party, Hagrid would be the one who does all the organizing, cleaning, shopping, cooking, set up, and even the dishes afterward. The most I'd do is… set the table, maybe. Perhaps even just the silverware!"

"So you're not feeling overworked?"

"Not in the slightest! I've got it easy! Besides, creature care is what I love, and the work is _supposed_ to be an all-day activity. There's really no need for you to be so concerned about me. I've even trying to do more for _him_ , make myself useful and all that, as I've told you before. You should see how much he does! Takes care of the entire grounds, tidies up the forest, keeps the herds in line (him and Grawp, anyway), teaches the upper-level courses… why, just the other day, I was coming up from the lake and I saw him coming out of the forest, right at the crack of dawn! He'd been in the forest all night playing ambassador with the centaurs, can you imagine? I've never met a man so committed!"

Wendy went to the next trough, continuing on about all of Hagrid's deeds and duties. Apparently, he didn't only take care of the school, but actively monitored the ecosystem within the forest and all the dangerous creatures within it - werewolves, acromantulas, unicorns, bugbears, hippogriffs, fairies and goblins and bowtruckles and all manner of beasts… if ever something got out of line and started overrunning its niche, steps had to be taken to intervene to keep the whole place from getting thrown out of whack. Of course, it took years to learn how everything worked, which was why it was good Hagrid had been around for so long. If it weren't for him, Hogwarts and the forest would be in a heap of trouble.

"Of course, the sensible thing to do might be to just let nature run its course."

"But he doesn't want that?"

"Certainly not. He and the Headmistress are together on that front. Plus, with both us and the Muggles needing more land for housing and crops, the creatures are having fewer and fewer places to go. The Headmistress wants to set up a reserve, did you know that?"

"No!"

Wendy went on, and they passed the bottle back and forth, Alice doing her part by going "Ooo" and "wow" every now and then. Jerri the Hen was only out for a few more minutes, pecking at the straw and Alice's boots, before going back into the warmth of the coop. Alice looked after it enviously, letting out a cloud of breath and tucking a hand under her armpit.

Once Wendy finished, they left the warmly-lit enclosure and headed back to the castle, Alice with her broom over her shoulder and Wendy with the bottle. They made for the north side of the castle, where there were some older rooms that had been in disuse for about a decade until Wendy took them up for her lessons.

"These'll be good for the kneazle lectures too," she remarked.

"Where are you keeping them now?"

"An enclosure out by the mud flats, actually. Had to cut the trees back so they wouldn't jump over the fence. Smart buggers, they are..."

In addition to her broom, Alice had her wand out and was casting _Lumos_ so they didn't stumble over anything.

"So what else have you been doing all day?" Wendy asked. "You left around 9am, didn't you, and only got back an hour ago?"

"No no, I was at the Three Broomsticks with Evan! We had a very interesting talk about the War, and how it has, er, similarities with some Muggle wars a century ago…"

Alice talked for a bit, and Wendy trudged alongside her.

"...And on the way back I told him about Severus Snape, and we talked about his life and the things he did with Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort. I think I've talked to you about Snape before?"

Wendy grunted, and took a swig of wine.

"But Evan seemed to be placing a lot of blame on the Muggles, for the way the world is," she went on. "And granted, I know it's a sorry state of affairs, but I don't think it's anyone's _fault_ , per se, sometimes things just get a bit messy. He did make the point though about how we can get nasty just as human beings, when push comes to shove and you start running out of food and everything. I've read about some of that, too, but I still don't think -"

"Sorry, Alice, you think we could talk about something else?"

"Hmm?"

Wendy was walking with her eyes on the ground, obviously not enjoying the topic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said. "I wasn't getting all sour again, was I?"

"No, you're fine. That kind of thing just gets me in a twist. But I'm glad you two are getting on so well."

"Yes. Thanks for encouraging me. He's an interesting guy with a lot on his mind... we're going to play Wizard's Chess soon, if we can get the time worked out."

"That's good. Just make sure he's not getting the wrong idea about things, hmm?"

"What do you mean?"

Wendy laughed, giving her a look - "You know. You, him, a woman and a man…"

"Oh!" said Alice. "Yes, well, he knows we're just hanging out as friends. We're both on the same page about that, I assure you."

"Good, then. Okay, well, let's see…"

They'd arrived at the door to Wendy's classroom, and she bumbled for a moment finding the key on her keychain. Once inside, Alice let out a sigh of relief - although the air had a stench to it, it was a lot warmer.

Wendy lit the torches, and showed Alice the different terrariums with the toads. The four she thought were slime-producers were along one wall, and after a few minutes of inspection Alice came to agree with her (it wasn't the easiest thing, as the toads squirmed out of sight whenever they went in for a look). Toads were one of the areas where they were both somewhat experienced - not only were they famous pets for Ravenclaws (as they gave their keepers a slight boost when it came to creative thinking), but those that produced slime had their uses in potion brewing.

"Are you thinking of getting any frogs?" Alice asked.

"Technically toads _are_ frogs, just fitted to different environments!" Wendy said. "But I'm not sure. They're not normally kept as pets, though they would be useful for students with an interest in your subject, wouldn't they?"

"They certainly would. And having a stock of fresh Toad Slime around the place wouldn't be too bad of a thing either."

"I'll think about it. Maybe with my third-years, that's when they start specializing…"

They talked for a few more minutes, Alice going around to the different terrariums and asking what toad was from where, and Wendy had a great time telling her about each individual acquisition process. After a while, though, they decided it was getting late, and that the morning came early (even on Sundays), and the two of them ought to get to bed.

Alice walked Wendy down to the Professor's Quarters, which were in a large hallway below the main floor with an Aversion ward set up to repel students. Each room was dressed up like a miniature flat, with your own bed, bathroom, desk, and little fireplace and kitchenette (that often went unused). Alice wouldn't have minded taking one - she liked being in proximity to people - but as the professor of a core subject spanning all seven years, she was given Professor Chang's old quarters, down in the dungeons. ( _Yes_ , the dungeons, of all places.)

Bidding her goodnight, Alice trudged back up to the Entry Hall, checked the Pearl (which was locked), and back down the stairs on the opposite side, which led into the bowels of the castle. The Slytherin dorms were only a few turns away from her, but thankfully they put up a lot less of a ruckus than the Gryffindors. She'd tried switching with Professor Byron once, who was cozied up on the third floor, but both of them were already settled and it would've been impractical with their respective lecture rooms so close.

She went through the potions lab to her office, where she kept the stores of her most expensive ingredients and finished draughts. Unlike the other core professors, most of her materials and files weren't kept in her office, and she used it as more of a glorified security and storage room than anything else. The Pearl met the bulk of her needs. Unfortunately, she still needed to come here when she had a student appointment, or office hours, or when she was supposed to sleep.

"Gooood evening, Professor," drawled a small, shrunken head as she opened her office door.

It was hung next to her desk in the midst of some shelves. It was a rather gruesome sight - leathery skin, dry lips, hair long and messy, eyes stitched shut in 'X's. Another unfortunate fact of having quarters in the dungeons was that there were hardly any portraits, so if you wanted someone around to keep track of things, you had to resort to stranger methods.

"Evening, Fern," she said, desensitized to his presence after three years.

"You've had two visitors today," said Ferneukan the Fruit-Picker, jostling around where he hung. "One a sixth-year, from Hufflepuff, and another a first-year, _also_ from Hufflepuff."

"They leave any messages?"

"No, they did not."

"Very well, thanks Fern."

"You are welcome, madam."

Fern fell silent, content to fall back into disanimation. She couldn't blame him - if you were kept up in a dungeon all day, odds are you'd want to spend as little of it awake as possible too. The portraits certainly acted that way, whenever she'd attempted to hang one - their subjects ran right out of their frames as soon as she got them up. Of course, as far as sentience went, portraits were a lot more 'alive' than shrunken heads were, so maybe Fern didn't mind as much.

She didn't stay in her office long. There was always something dreary about it. She crossed right to the opposite corner and entered her sleeping quarters through a doorway disguised as a bookshelf, and when it closed, she dropped her satchel on a chair, set her broom against the wall, and sighed with exhaustion.

There was always something dreary about her bedroom, too - no matter what sort of decorations she put up, there was always the cold, dark stone beneath it, which was stained with years of dungeony gloom. She'd brought an enormous, yellow rug that covered nearly the entirety of the floor, installed some of those enchanted windows that let you pretend you weren't below ground, stuck up a number of posters (a few of which she'd copied for her first and second-year classroom), and filled bookshelves with everything from headache-inducing alchemy texts to enthralling mystery novels. She'd added a big, talking mirror that complemented her and gave her tips, and had a closet full of boots and sweaters and scarves that she kept open at all times. Her washing was allowed to fall freely, a few pieces of clothing laying here and there on furniture and her floor. She'd even cast some fairy-light charms (little balls of displaced light floating around the ceiling like bubbles), and the dreariness still didn't go away until she put on her phonograph. Which, promptly, she did.

With music, all the unpleasantness melted away - not just the gloom of the dungeons, but the stress she carried with her from her work, her worries of bothering people, her fears of coming short of the tasks she'd put out for herself. Sometimes, her thoughts got to be too much, but then the music could just be made louder. One of the very few nice things about the dungeons were that the walls were so thick, and even when her phonograph as loud as she could tolerate it, you could still hardly hear it from the classroom beyond.

Starting to relax, she gazed at her soft, comfortable bed for a moment before realizing the danger of going to sleep as stinky sweaty mess, and forced herself into her bathroom. She showered to the sound of jazz; colorful, flowery suds washing over her, then exploded the water from her hair with a drying charm, tugged on her nightwear, and collapsed into the nest of her blankets.

After all the things she'd done that day she thought she'd be laying awake for a while, but only a minute passed before she flicked her wand at her music (fading it to silence) and let her eyes fall closed, the fairy lights dimming to embers above her.

She dreamed about the flight back to Hogwarts, only it never ended. It wasn't a pleasant dream. She just kept going and going, never making it back, missing her lectures and failing her students and the faculty that relied on her. Then, in a moment of lucidity she forced herself from the flight and ended up in the Three Broomsticks, where she talked with a one-armed Evan about people working themselves to death. She wanted people to know when to ask for help, and Evan said most people weren't aware enough to manage it. She kept trying to get her point across, but she didn't know what words to use. Then Evan turned into Severus Snape, who never spoke and only stared at her, his lengthy hair dropping over his face, his eyes dark and calculating, his entire person closed off from human warmth. It was, she recognized, the same way he stared out of all his old photographs. She then fell into a deeper sleep, below where dreams could linger, and passed the night.


	32. Sensei

The Points Board had gone up. Everyone in Hufflepuff stood before it, Professor Donarko having banished all the sofas and armchairs, as he did whenever he felt it necessary to have a Talk. Nathaniel and Maria were midway back and off to the side, next to a group of upper-year boys, one of whom was sporting a medium-sized black rat on his shoulder. This, Nathaniel was paying careful attention to.

"We really do have a small house," Jarod muttered behind them. "How many of us are here?"

"One hundred twelve," Nathaniel answered, but remained looking forward to make it clear he wasn't for up for side-chatter.

Jarod _did_ have a point, though. But even with the low counts being a factor, it wasn't all bad - for one thing, the common room was built for twice the capacity, so there was plenty of room to get a decent view of Professor Donarko. Then, there was always plenty of food and seating at the House Table for late-comers, of whom Nathaniel often was one. The obvious downside was that it was nearly impossible to compete for the Cup.

"This is unacceptable," Professor Donarko stated, directing a finger at the Board. "A third of you are in the red. Half of you have hardly any points to speak of at all, and the remaining _sixth_ appear to be putting in no effort to help your peers. This will not be tolerated. This is _not_ the Hufflepuff way. Earning the Cup is more than just a simple 'game' of what House is the best at participation; it is a representation of the culture being created here! It is a sign of your work ethic, and your commitment to becoming valuable, contributive members of wizarding society! For you older students, the Points System is especially important - it provides an invaluable opportunity for you to show your worth to potential employers, one which you are _completely missing_ -"

Nathaniel tuned out. Professor Donarko was going into another long-winded discipline lecture, the sort of which he'd heard enough of in his time to make the boy's rat (which was now balancing itself precariously on the narrow ridge of the boy's shoulder while grooming its backside) substantially more interesting. It wasn't that Professor Donarko's speeches were dull - quite the opposite, in fact - it was just, they were all things he'd heard before. Maybe he'd seen too many movies, or watched too many TV shows. It got to be too formulaic: state problem, address causes, boost confidence, propose solutions, and suggest a step-by-step process of how to follow through. Every time. Although, that wasn't to say it didn't _work_... since the beginning of the year, he _had_ noticed changes in his upper-year housemates, who had gone from uncomfortably isolated clusters to a larger, more interactive community. It could have just been the natural progression of things, but the mandated social activities Professor Donarko had set up for them undoubtedly played a role as well. Everyone was sitting together during meal times, everyone was hanging out in the common room after classes instead of going to the library or grounds, people were signing up for inter-House club competitions if they were able (although those last two were made mandatory). Even during the Talks, everyone would rally together and call out " _Yes, sir"_ (or some other variation) when prompted, which Nathaniel followed along with, even when he had no idea what he was agreeing to, which was often.

For him, the one-on-one meetings were a lot more productive. He knew these were likely just as scripted and formulaic, but the personal nature of them made it hard not to get invested. Particularly, when Professor Donarko gave one of his discussion prompts.

"Describe your relationship with your parents."

"Growing up and in your schooling, did you have many friendships? Describe them."

"Please define what 'being an adult' means to you."

The questions weren't easy. Often, Nathaniel got stuck trying to answer and Professor Donarko would have to break them down into simpler questions, which hurt his ego. If he had to describe the sessions to an outsider, like Maria, he'd probably call them "emotionally draining", but he wasn't completely sure if that was the right phrase. It was just something his Mum said every now and then. But it did seem like a good fit… his mood definitely matched it right then. He'd had to sit through a session just before the Talk, and right now he couldn't care any less about the Points Board even if he wanted to.

But the meetings were unpleasant. They were just... different. They were like the counseling appointments he'd had with Dr. Poole, at least at a surface level, but they were more _real_ , in a sense, in a way that made you forget Professor Donarko didn't actually care who you were. It was like he had a genuine interest in your growth, or how you were getting on with things, like parents did in TV shows. Even if there was no way that could be true, seeing as he was one of hundreds of other students. Actually… now that he thought about it, the meetings reminded him a lot of he used to feel about his practices with Sensei.

"...they are in their first year, and their name is Nathaniel Zoldik."

He snapped to attention. Unfortunately, the Talk shifted away from him as suddenly as it had come. _What had happened?_ he thought. Why was he mentioned by name? Had others been? Was it just in passing, as an example, or had there been a more in-depth monologue he'd entirely missed? He looked around, but all he got was a grin from Maria and a few nods from the upper-classmen nearby. He drew his mouth tight, feeling slightly bothered, but it'd have to wait till after until he could find out what was said.

Sighing inwardly, he shifted in place (even though he knew he was supposed to stay shoulders-back-and-still) and continued to wait. Next to him, the rat stuck its nose up into its owner's hair. Nathaniel restrained himself from wrinkling his nose.

Ten minutes later Professor Donarko _finally_ wound down (as indicated by a large number of " _Yes, sir!_ "s), and everyone was dismissed. The furniture was re-summoned, Professor Donarko went off through the barrel-hole to his office, and following him stepped a half dozen students who were probably on either extreme of the points-spectrum.

Nathaniel looked down at their cluster of sofa chairs. Maria and Jarod both dropped back into them and were pulling their parchments toward them across the too-small table they shared.

"I think I'm going to go to my dorm," he told them.

Maria looked up, incredulous. " _What?_ You can't leave! We've only just started!"

"I know, I just -"

"Plus it's Saturday! The weekend!"

"I know. It's just… I'm sorry. I'm tired."

She frowned.

"I'll stick around," Jarod volunteered.

"Why're you so tired?" she asked him, as if already knowing the answer.

He waved his arm. "Long week."

"But it was fun! I thought we we're having fun, didn't you like it?"

He smiled - "No, I did! But it was still tiring."

Her face fell, and she stared at him with her brown eyes, in that way someone does when they're already thinking about something else.

"But hey, nice job getting all those points," he congratulated, stacking his papers. She'd been one of the bigger earners, at thirty-two.

"Well I only got them because I was helping you."

He laughed. "Yeah, thanks for that."

"Sure," she muttered, watching him pack.

"We can work again tomorrow night," he said. "I've got a meeting with my Potions group mid-day, but can meet after."

"Alright," she said, focusing back in on him. "Let's do the Defense, I'm going to need help with it!"

"Sure. Like I said earlier, it'll be easy once we get going, it just seems like a lot up front."

He shouldered his pack.

"Uggh!" she moaned, collapsing back in the chair and letter her arms slump off the side of each armrest. "I hate working in small groups!"

He looked to Jarod, who was watching her.

"Maybe you guys could hang out with your Potions partners," he said. "You were saying the boy in your group was cool, right?"

"Yeah. That's true. Maybe..."

"Well, might be worth a shot. See you tomorrow."

"Night, I _guess_."

"See ya," said Jarod.

Nathaniel went, winding his way back through the common room, up the stairs, but stopping before the saloon dormitory doors to give a last glance back. Jarod was writing at his parchment, but Maria was sitting upright and looked to have spotted the boy from her group.

Raising his eyebrows as if in a shrug, he pushed his way into the sleeping quarters. All the warmth and wood and pastoral decor quickly gave way to cool Hogwarts stone and relieving semi-darkness.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, a chuckle was cut short - it was Edgar. He and Chase were in their bunk, Chase on the top, faces lit up with harsh light by their game systems. They must have ran back as soon as Professor Donarko finished.

"Hey," Nathaniel said passively.

"Hello!" Chase laughed. "How many points didju get back?"

He blinked - how had he known about that?

"Fifty-two."

" _Woah!_ Nice job man!"

"Hah, c'mon Chase," said Edgar. "If he can do it, you can do it too!"

They cracked up.

"What's the joke?" he asked, studying them.

"Just what Professor Donarko said," Chase answered.

Oh yeah.

"That's right, do you remember what all he said?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"No," he sighed. He went over and dropped his bag into his wardrobe.

"Well, just that you lost a bunch of points or something, then got them all back, and that you're Muggle-born, and that if you can do it, the upper-years should be able to too."

He grimaced. Now that he thought about it, Professor Donarko had asked during their meeting if he could use his last few days as an example, but he didn't think it'd be in a House address immediately afterward.

"How was it phrased?"

"Dunno! Wasn't paying attention. Ah, you _bitch!"_ he laughed, Edgar having apparently gotten the upper hand in their game.

" _Ooo-wee, he's trying!"_ Edgar teased in his grating, high-pitched voice.

"It didn't sound bad, though," Chase went on, reassuring him. "At least from what I remember. Hey, did you get one of these?"

He flashed the rubber packaging of his game system quickly before he lost his place in his game.

"Er, no, Father doesn't want me to have it."

"That doesn't mean you can't still order it," Edgar said. "If you have money."

Nathaniel didn't respond. Edgar stayed focused on his game.

"What'd you want it for anyway?" asked Chase. "You said you weren't into video games, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I was thinking about using it for my phone."

"Ah, I gotcha. But Hogwarts has terrible service, you know. There's literally no internet."

"I've got global."

"Doesn't matter, it's 'cause of the magic."

"But, aren't you playing wirelessly?"

"Yeah, but this is short-range. Oh, _NO!"_ he yelled again, sending Edgar into chuffs.

"Do you know how that all works, anyway?"

"What?"

"Magical interference."

"No idea! HA! _TAKE THAT,_ _arsehole!_ "

He sighed.

"Well, I'm going to lay down, guys."

"You want us to be quiet?"

"That'd be nice."

"Okay, sure."

Nathaniel sat on his bunk, undid his boots, and laid down. Not even a minute later, however, Chase burst into laughter again and Edgar made another joke. Stopping himself from sighing again, he stared out at the ceiling of the room, which was the same dark wood as the rest of the Hufflepuff dorms, and tried to let his mind wander. _How did the house-elves manage to clean all the way up there?_ he wondered. _Did they have pole extensions?_

Unfortunately, before he could start relaxing, Chase and Edgar laughed again.

" _If you can do it, I can do it too!"_ Edgar squealed.

Huffing, Nathaniel tugged the curtains around his bed (the curtains had a silencing charm on them, he'd discovered, which he'd become enormously thankful for the past few weeks). With peace finally restored, he pulled out his writer, the pages glowing a soft, papery yellow in the dark, and turned to his wizarding-audiobook of _Hogwarts, A History._ He'd listened to it three times over already, but that made it easier for him to zone off. Skipping to one of the more enjoyable sections, he clamped the book around his fingers and rested it on his stomach, and the story of the time Hogwarts was invaded by an escaped animagus convict was read out to him. And as the author spoke, his mind finally eased and began to wander, and it went to Professor Donarko, and then back, far back, to the last time he'd had meetings like theirs.

* * *

Nathaniel was seven years old when he'd begun taking lessons from Sensei. They weren't easy at the start - ever since he was little, he'd had round-the-clock access to cellphone games and AR goggles, and in the hours of his lessons he was completely cut off. It was, in no lesser terms, excruciating.

"No, love," his mother stated, when he demanded them to stop. "This is important. The lessons will help you grow up strong, and your father wants you to have them."

Nathaniel wanted to argue more, but all that came out was an undignified scream-groan that he clamped shut as soon as he remembered Hass was in the room with them.

If his father wanted something, then that something was to be done. So Nathaniel went, day after day for the rest of the week, fighting his complaints down and following Sensei's instructions until the time finally ended. It was maddening. The lessons were so boring, so useless, that he spent half the time restraining himself from running back into house, and the other half trying not to knead his forehead in frustration.

"You are improving," Sensei remarked, at the end of a lesson.

The comment, for some reason, shocked him. _Improving?_ he thought. He didn't even know what they were doing! He didn't even know what he had learned, to have been improved upon! But it hadn't only been that - someone had made a direct comment to him. He had done something without realizing, _he_ , himself, that someone of authority had recognized, even if he didn't know exactly what it was. What had it been? How had he improved?

When they bowed at the end of the day, his mind wasn't immediately readying itself for the upcoming sprint back through the house to get to his game system- it was there in the training area, uncertain, wondering what he was doing, and who exactly the sweaty, middle-aged man before him was.

In the next two weeks, he received a white belt, which he was shown how to wrap around himself and the "gi" uniform he'd been made to wear. He didn't think much of it, even though he bowed as he was supposed to all the same. It was just another meaningless participation trophy.

"This belt is a symbol of your progress," Sensei told him. "White is the color of new life, and a new beginning. It is attributed to a seed, recently planted. This is something you have earned, young master Zoldik."

Again the surprise came, but it was a bit more familiar this time. Afterward, one of the staff took it and hung it with everything else in his closet. _So, Level One_ , he thought to himself. Then he went back to his things.

As the lessons progressed, he slowly began enjoying them more. He was paying attention now to what they were doing, and each of his small, incremental advancements through the outlined training program. Sensei's praise was rare, so when he got some, there was a surge of pride in his chest, which was quite a bit different than anything he'd felt before. It was more… unique, maybe? Personal to him? He wasn't sure. It was like something was added to him, another bit of substance was _put in_ where before there, well, where before there maybe hadn't been anything. He couldn't help but get more interested in the etiquette Sensei taught, or try harder at the methods they practiced. It was like he was _hungry,_ and he wanted to _know,_ and he wanted _more_ , of whatever this was.

"Why do you bow too?" he asked, at the beginning of a lesson. "Aren't you my teacher?"

"Ah. The bow is not to acknowledge your teachers," Sensei told him. "It is to say, ' _I see you have done hard work.'_ It is to say, ' _Thank you for your effort.'"_

"But - why do we bow to the training area, then?"

"The training area is a place for hard work, and a place for effort! To bow to it is to understand this. Now, no more questions. We must focus."

And so the lessons went on. He devoured his food during mealtimes ("I think these lessons are great for him," said his mother; "Mm-hmm," said his father, behind his work screen.) He began feeling more... energetic, if he had to pick a word for it. Rather than shrugging off his out-of-lessons training exercises, he began doing them as often as he was asked, under the watchful supervision of Hass. He felt more concentrated, perhaps, in his classes, and was more relaxed around the other children. They called him " _cool"_ , which was better than the fearful whispers he'd had about his status or family. After a year, the lessons became his favorite part of his week.

"Good afternoon, young master Zoldik," Sensei said.

"Good afternoon, Sensei," Nathaniel returned, and they bowed.

There were more belts than just the white: as the months passed, he earned yellow, then orange, then green, then blue, purple, and brown. Each showed his advancement through the ranks of the program, and as his skill developed he picked up on other things: humility, patience, self-confidence. This, of course, contrasted sharply with the personalities of the other children at his school.

"Sensei, why is everyone so…" he thought for a moment - "loud? Or, nervous?"

"Ah... not everyone has the same experiences as you or I," Sensei told him. "One's character comes not from their age, but from the life they live. From what one is surrounded by as they grow, much like the richness of the soil around a seed."

"Hmm. Okay. So, why don't more people do training, like us?"

Nathaniel thought he saw a smile twitch at the corner of Sensei's mouth, but it was always hard to tell.

"Not everyone knows of it," Sensei said. "Not everyone wants it. Did you, when you first began?"

"No," he realized.

They moved to the next stretching pose, and held their positions across from one another.

"Building yourself takes effort," Sensei went on. "Not everyone wishes to _give_ this effort. They have greater responsibilities that demand their focus, or… other things, that they prefer to do."

"Like video games?"

"Yes. But, character is a complex thing. Someone who plays video games may not be… 'loud and nervous', as you say. There is much that affects us, and much that shapes us. Do you still enjoy your video games?"

"Yeah, but, it's different. It's not like i used to. Not in the same way."

"You have more control now! You make your decisions with your mind, rather than your desires. One can still enjoy their video games, if they control themselves, as you have learned."

His pride swelled, but he tried to ignore it. They shifted stances.

"Why don't other people do that?"

"Perhaps they do. We cannot know, unless we know them."

"But for the ones that don't."

Sensei was silent for a moment.

"For each of us, in our lives, there are things that tempt us to act with desire, rather than thought," he said. "If one does not _see_ these things, they will not know they are there, and those things will have control. It is only when one recognizes something, that they are able to control it."

They came out of their stances. "But, now is not the time for this. Let us return to the lesson. We must focus."

They took their positions on the mat, and for the rest of the lesson Nathaniel worked as hard as always, but in the back of his mind he stayed thinking of what Sensei had said. It wasn't just kids they were talking about, he realized - desires controlled adults, too. He saw that in his father's subordinates. He saw it in the people that went along the sidewalk on the other side of their car's windows, and in his teachers at school. Everywhere you went, there were people who were loud. And nervous.

A year later, Nathaniel had come into a rather comfortable pattern. School in the day, training in the evening, then supper, homework, and internet until bed. He'd sworn off video games, deciding they were much too tempting for him, and easier to just go without. On the internet, he found blogs and video sites and chat forums he could come and go from at any time, and were just as entertaining as video games had been. Plus, he learned more - things about human behavior, and how people trained themselves to think in certain ways. Unfortunately, it didn't do much for his opinion of humanity.

Without any close friendships (his family was too intimidating, even with his efforts, he came to realize), Sensei was the only person he had any substantial experiences with. However, Nathaniel soon started noticing things about him - how he sometimes rushed in their lessons, even if he did a good job hiding it; how he repeated himself now and then, or forgot what they'd finished the last time they met. But Nathaniel didn't blame him for it. It was unfortunate, but it was just part of being a grown-up, as far as he saw it. Even his own mother and father were like that.

"Thank you for the lesson, Sensei," he said, at the end of another session.

"You are welcome, my student - thank you for learning it," he returned, just as he always did. Then they bowed, and Sensei left, but without bowing to the training area as he always did, and Nathaniel stood there watching him go.

"Everything okay, young master Zoldik?" Hass rumbled from behind.

"Yes. It's just… he's been more rushed lately. I've noticed."

"I see. Do you feel the quality of your lessons has fallen?"

"No, no, nothing like that," he said hurriedly, not wanting to get Sensei in trouble. "It's small stuff. He's been in more of a hurry to get to his car, and - just now - didn't bow to the training area, like we always do."

"Hmm. Perhaps he has more on his plate than usual," Hass mused, giving a rare euphemism.

 _That's right_. Of course Sensei had work to do, just as his father and everyone else did.

"Do you know what he does?"

"He's a part-time line cook at his family's restaurant, and martial arts instructor. He also has an infant he cares for."

That was more information than Nathaniel had been expecting. He felt a twist in his stomach, like he'd just intruded on Sensei's personal life. But the curiosity the internet had trained in him was a powerful thing, and now that he knew _something_ , he had to know more.

"...Do you know why he's gotten so busy?"

"I do not. But i can find out for you, if you like."

"No. That's okay."

A moment passed, and in the distance, he saw Sensei's car whirring away along the road at the edge of their property. It occurred to him there was a lot about his teacher he didn't know - after all the training they'd done together, after all the conversations they'd had, Nathaniel couldn't remember Sensei ever offering the smallest detail of who he was, or him asking. He didn't even know his name, he realized astoundedly. And then he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Junseo Kim," Hass answered. "Would you like to see his file?"

The guilt of intrusion thumped within him.

"No."

But - an hour later, submerged in the all-encompassing light of the internet - Nathaniel trespassed further into Sensei's life than he'd ever wanted. It was like there was a hunger in him, steering his clicks and navigations before he even recognized what he was doing.

He found out where Sensei, a man named Junseo Kim, had gone to school, and how he'd indebted himself for a university degree that hadn't amounted to anything. He found out where Sensei lived, how old he was, when he'd gained citizenship, and the names of his wife and children. He found his family's restaurant. He found a rudimentary social media profile. He found a page he'd had made for his martial arts class that he'd probably paid too much for. And, and hardest of all, Nathaniel found out what he was to him.

He was just a student. Just another of Sensei's many, many students. Nathaniel scrolled through the class photos on Sensei's website, seeing the other people, the boys, the girls, the men and women and assistants, all of them in gi uniforms like his, a rainbow of belts at their waists. His heart broke. It cracked, just a little. He felt betrayed, even though there was no _reason_ to be; that _of course_ it was only natural for Sensei to be teaching other students, that it was only his stupid short-sightedness that made him think any different. It was his own fault. So what, if he thought he was special? That he mattered? That was _his mistake._ But no matter how he tried to rationalize it, no matter how hard he tried to whittle it away, the pieces inside him were still split, and sinking, and so he sat there, not knowing how to hold them together, or even if he had any right to.

"Did you think he didn't care about you?" The Friar asked, walking right through the barrels outside the porthole.

"I mean, not really. Not how I'd thought. I was just one of his pupils, wasn't I?"

It was the next morning. He hadn't slept well.

"I was one of a hundred students," he said. "And I trained under him for another two years afterward, and never saw anything that said I was any different than the rest. It'd just been me, being stupid."

"Yet you continued your practices?"

"Yeah. Of course. My parents still wanted me to have them. And it didn't really affect anything - I trained just as hard. Besides, we'd never spoken much in the first place." Nathaniel sighed. "I guess I was never as interested in it again, but what does that matter? I went to the practices. I learned the material. I still put in the work."

"I see."

He looked up at the Friar, and saw uncertainty on the ghost's face. Although it was kind of hard to tell, with the portraits and torches passing by on the other side.

"My son - young Zoldik -"

"Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel, then," he said, smiling. "If you don't mind me asking, did you ever talk to him about how you felt?"

"No... I didn't have reason to. He was just my martial arts Sensei, wasn't he? That would be sort of a weird conversation to have."

"Ah. I feared not. That is most unfortunate. It is one of life's greatest sorrows, when people do not share how they feel with one another."

"Er, well, it doesn't bother me much anymore," he said, trying to reassure him. "It was years ago."

"But you still cared for him a great deal, did you not? You had a close connection, one that was different from others in your life?"

"Sure."

"And to learn such a thing," the Friar went on, "and to have it affect you so, and for you to not say anything - it is a sorrowful thing, indeed. Did you ever discuss it with anyone, if you don't mind my asking? Your mother, or father?"

"No, I didn't." He was starting to regret telling him about Sensei, not realizing it would bother him like this. "But why would I talk to them about that anyway? I mean, I understood where I'd gone wrong. I got through it okay. There wouldn't be a point in - you know, having a conversation about it."

The Friar looked at him, expression sad.

"I am sorry, my son."

"It's…" he hesitated. "It's okay."

They continued forward down the hall, slowly, one step at a time, and a moment passed before the Friar spoke again.

"So, you mentioned the Head of Hufflepuff reminds you of your Sensei?"

"Oh! Yeah. Professor Donarko. It's kind of nice, in an odd way. It's not that he reminds me of Sensei directly, but more of how I _felt_ about him, before realizing everything. If that makes sense."

"How so?"

"Just the personal nature of the meetings, I think. He's got this way of talking that makes it seem like he wants to make sure I'm doing okay. Like he's very intent on it. I am, of course, I've only had a few mishaps is all, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. But, it's still nice."

"Having someone that cares about you?"

Nathaniel made a half-frown, sucking in his cheek.

"Er… not like that. I know he doesn't _care_ , you know, on a personal level. It's more like having someone pay attention to you. And be glad when you make progress. Even if your lack-of-progress was just a misunderstanding in the first place. It's his job, more than anything. Does that make sense?"

"So, you believe he only cares about you because it is his duty?"

"Yeah! Exactly," he said, relieved. "And it's not a bad thing, of course. It's not wrong. It's just how it is."

"I see."

Another moment passed, and Nathaniel was suddenly uncertain - the Friar had been taking this a lot more seriously than normal. His jolly nature and jokes were almost entirely absent. He studied his rotund form, the odd expression on his face, wondering what he was thinking about. He wasn't sure if he liked it - it was the same way some of his teachers acted at his old school, right before they went off and talked to his parents or councilors. But, he realized, there was a difference here. He and the Friar already had a dialogue going.

"You don't report to Professor Donarko, do you? About our talks?" he asked.

The Friar looked at him in surprise.

"Certainly not, dear boy! These conversations are between you and me! I honor privacy and discretion just as much here as I would in a Confessional!"

"Hah. Okay. I was just wondering."

"Although -" the Friar paused. "That said, I won't deny I _do_ provide him advice where he asks for it, if that's what you're wondering. And if he were to ask about you in particular (and I thought it might be of service to you for me to do so) I might suggest a few things. I make it a point to help out where I can! He has a lot of work, you know, and Head Duties can be quite demanding for one person. But I always do so with the student's best interest at heart, and I always keep personal details private. Being someone others can trust is very important to me - how much help can one do, otherwise, if you can't be trusted?"

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate the honesty."

"Another holy virtue!" he proclaimed. "Now, forgive my curiosity, my son, but I am curious as to what you think of me - do you see me someone you can trust? As someone who cares for you? Or am I like a professor, who might only act the part?"

"No," he said thoughtfully, "I trust you. I do. I can tell you're an honest person. And I feel like you care, in a real way. It's what makes it easy talking to you. Even if you're actually a ghost, and a thousand years old."

The Friar gave a hearty laugh, in a way that made even some of the portraits smile.

"I'm glad you think so, my son! For what it's worth, I enjoy these talks, and am happy to keep your company. Being a ghost can be remarkably dull at times! Now, I wonder -" he considered him again - "what do you think, if I were to tell you a bit of my life? Would you mind?"

"Not at all."

"Well," the Friar started. "It's a story from a long, long time ago, back when I was still of flesh and blood. Back when Hogwarts was little more than the Great Hall, even! The world was a much smaller place, then. Or at least it felt so.

"I had just finished my seventh year here, and made my way back to my village. The journey was long, but I was eager to return to the Church, and I had my magic to grow food from the ground and shelter myself, so it was not too difficult. The Church was my home, you see. I think it was for everyone in some way. Churches were extraordinarily important things in that period of time, and I loved ours like nowhere else in the world! Where else could people go when they were in need? Of a kind ear, of a place to rest, or for people who cared for them and only wished to see them well? This was what the church was to me, and for the people of my village. And now that I was of age and no longer a boy, I could join in with the clergy and participate with the duties.

"Once a week, on on Wednesdays evenings, we hosted dinners. The Church collected food from those who had food to spare, and we would prepare and distribute it. I myself had a garden on the property that I tended to - I made an excellent roasted butternut squash!" he laughed.

"But in any case, all manner of people attended. Of course, the dinners were favored by the poor: new families with too many mouths to feed, vagrants without homes to go to, children whose parents had given all they could and could give no longer. There were many, many of them," he said. "Each with their own troubles. For me, there was no greater feeling than to ease their suffering, if only for a night. You could see their whole moods change with a full belly. It gave them a better outlook on life, i think. There are still times where I can see some of their faces after all these years."

He was silent for a moment.

"Eventually, as one hopes, their circumstances turn for the better. Injuries heal, and men go off to work in the King's fields. Children grow and take on apprenticeships, or become part of the church, like I did. Families mature and strengthen. Some would still come, on Sundays, as part of the congregation, and it would gladden me greatly to see them improved. A few would even begin donating as well, wanting to give back! Such lovely people.

"Of course, others went away. They travelled to other towns, or sailed to other lands seeking their dreams, leaving our village. But I never stopped thinking about them. I would lay there at night, or in the peaceful moments out in the garden, and wonder how they were doing - had they found their happiness? Achieved their ambitions? Started families? I knew not, but hoped so, for even if the world seems small at times, it is remarkably big, and if someone parts ways with you there is a good chance you may never see them again. It is just as with those who are welcomed to the arms of God: they are gone. And all you can do is hope for them, pray for them, and cherish the moments you shared together. That is one of life's greatest lessons - that we must appreciate the time we have, for we only walk the earth once. Now, do you see the point of my story?"

Nathaniel thought for a moment. The Friar had obviously wanted to connect this with something…

"That community is important?" he tried. "That even if you leave, you might be remembered? That if you're one of many people, there's still a chance for you to be seen, and for people to care for you?"

He smiled. "Just so, my son!"

"But -" he hesitated. He guessed the Friar was trying to make the point Professor Donarko might care for him, but Professor Donarko was a _very_ different person.

"- I'm sorry, but there's no way you can remember all of them, can you?"

"You're wondering if I may have missed someone, because there were so many that passed through?"

"Yes. It's like something my father said once: we meet so many people in our lives, that one person becomes no more than a drop in the sea."

They stopped walking. They'd come to the base of the stairwell leading up to the Entry Hall, and out of habit they paused to finish their conversation before heading up.

The Friar rubbed his chin. "I think see what troubles you," he said. "Your father was right, but only in regard to strangers. In our daily lives, I don't think that saying can be true. Think of it this way - does your father have close friends?"

"Yeah. Although, they might be more of work associates."

"But do you think he considers them as drops in the sea? Just as he might someone he sees from afar?"

"No, definitely not."

"Right! It's all about the worlds we live in. Our individual lives. While you're right, and it's true that there may have been someone who came to the church too briefly for me to remember their faces, I still came to know a great many of them. And, still, for those that I never had the pleasure to know, I would never dismiss them! I would treat them with kindness, and listen if they had problems they needed to share, and would wish them well as they went on with their day, just as with anyone."

"Oh! I didn't mean to say you were lying, or being, er, dis-in-gen-uous, or anything like that -"

The Friar smiled, and Nathaniel knew no offense had been taken.

"Worry not, my son. I know you meant no ill will. But to think of one person as no more than a drop in the sea is just the same as dismissing them. It reduces them to something unremarkable. And while simplifying things is a natural behavior - it would be exhausting, after all, to go out and learn the life story of every person you meet, and quite impossible to do in one lifetime - it is not a healthy thing when creating and building relationships. You can see people as droplets, if you want, and dismiss them; or you can see them as people, and be open to learning from them, and caring for them. It's a matter of perspective. Do you understand?"

"I... guess so."

"So, with that in mind, how do you think Professor Donarko sees his students? As water droplets, that he disregards?"

"No, i guess not. He actually has to interact with them and get to know them, after all."

"Precisely! And I can tell you with a good amount of confidence, that if you treat someone as a person, it is hard not to come to care for them. There may be a great many people in one's life, but I have never heard of there being any limits to caring. And at times you may get busy, and you may have to focus on other things, but that doesn't mean you can't still care about a person when you think of them. At the end of the day, it is the people we know that give our lives meaning. I can think of no greater thing that eases the soul in hard times than to surround yourself with the people you care for."

"Right."

They started up the stairs. Nathaniel went step by step, trudging his way upward, thinking about everything the Friar had said. And slowly, as he thought of his own life, and as he thought of Sensei, an enormous guilt began to weigh on him.

"Friar -"

"Yes, my son?"

"Sensei - I trained under him for a long time - years, even - do you think he still thinks of me?"

"Undoubtedly! You were his pupil, were you not? One he trained personally!"

The weight turned into an octopus that squeezed his insides.

"And do you think he cared about me?"

"I am certain he did, my son," the Friar said, smiling at him, even though he had no idea what Nathaniel was feeling. "From what you have told me, you spent a great amount of time together. He trained you, and watched you grow and begin to see the world. That is as good of a recipe for caring for someone as any."

"I -" Nathaniel swallowed, stopping at the top of the stairs. He thought he might be sick. _Oh god._ "What should I do? I haven't seen him in months. I haven't had a real conversation with him in forever. I never - I never said goodbye -"

A coolness came upon his shoulder, and when he looked, he saw the Friar had placed a hand there. The Friar's face was very kind. For a moment he wanted to hug him, for the Friar to tell him it was okay, like his mother did when he was little. But he couldn't. The Friar was a ghost.

"Are you both still among the living?"

He nodded.

"Then it isn't too late, my son! You should be glad - from what I have seen, you live in a marvelous age! If you want to talk to your Sensei, I'm sure all you need to do is reach out. There's a postal service, is there not? Perhaps you could borrow one of the school's owls!"

The thought of doing that made the octopus loosen, and he knew it was exactly what must be done.

"Good idea," he managed.

"Certainly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a window to visit! And unless I'm very much mistaken, you've got people to see, don't you? A breakfast that's waiting for you, and friends to talk to!"

"Yeah, you're right," he said, and managed to return the Friar's smile. And when he did, it felt a little more real than he was expecting. "Thanks for… the talk."

"And thank you as well! It was certainly an interesting one. Now, go and spend some time amongst the living, my son!"

And then they parted ways, the Friar flying off and disappearing through a high point on the wall. And Nathaniel stood there, listening to the clamor emanating from the open doors of the Great Hall - but suddenly realized something.

He turned and looked back the way they'd come, past all the portraits, the stonework of the walls, all the way to the barrels in the distance, and he realized their conversation had gone uninterrupted that morning. No clanking, no bashing, no indignant shouts. And he realized that he might not have heard it in a few days, in fact, and he wondered if he ever would again. But even if so, maybe that was the way of things. As the Friar said, the world was a big place. Sometimes people left.

Nathaniel went.


	33. Riley

Ray stopped talking part way through her sentence. Somehow, through the jumbled crowd of students standing around the Hufflepuff Table, she caught nose-in-the-air Cole coming in through the big doors and taking her place amongst the Ravenclaws. Anger surged in her veins. It had been long enough, she decided - she wasn't going to let it go any longer. She stood.

"What? Ray!" Kendra scolded. "What are you doing?"

"I'll be right back."

"You were right in the middle of a sentence!"

"Yeah," said Zach, but she was already stepping backward over the bench.

She set off, adrenaline tingling in her arms and legs as she passed the backs of her fellow Gryffindors. She was _done_ with this, and she wanted it over with. The silent tension in class was far worse than any teasing they had ever given each other, and she certainly wasn't going to be one of those people that avoided doing something until they died. Things had to be settled, like they should have been on Day One.

However, she was going to need to be a _bit_ careful - walking along below the Head Table, she was made distinctly aware of how many professors were on watch. If their conversation got out of hand, she could very well land herself in trouble. So she'd just have to play it cool. But, hopefully, with the Hufflepuff Table as busy as it was, she'd blend right in.

Ray set down the central aisleway and spotted Cole's long, wavy, I'm-prettier-than-you hair amidst all the witch hats and upper-classmen. She was just sitting there, reading her Astronomy textbook and munching on toast in the most pretentious way possible, acting too important to get involved in the conversations around her. Ray stopped across from her and crossed her arms.

" _Hey,"_ she stated.

Only Cole's eyes glanced upward.

"What."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to Hogwarts?"

"Why _would_ I?"

"Because -" she started, then realized there actually was no reason Cole would say anything to her at all. Fury surging, she made a mental note to keep calm. What was it about Cole that always made her want to scream?

"Nevermind!" she said. "Why did you _make fun_ of me? For believing in magic?"

"I didn't."

Ray gaped. "Yes you did! You and Judy came up and started teasing me out of nowhere, and then Mrs. Canilly made _me_ run laps! Even though you started it!"

"Well, you shoved me."

Ray flung her arms apart, clenching her fists at her sides.

" _That doesn't matter!_ You were still making fun of me, when you had no right! You had a letter too, didn't you? How could you say all those things when you _knew_ magic was real? I bet a witch even came to your house, and talked to your parents -"

"I never made fun of you about magic!" Cole burst.

"Stop lying!"

"Oh, _I'm_ the liar now?"

"Yes, you're -!" she stopped - "Wait, what?"

Cole shut her book and set it down forcefully by her toast. Ray took a breath and did a quick check of the people around them - one or two were casting glances, but most were still going on with their conversations.

"You. Are. The. Liar." she said, staring at her unblinkingly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't be stupid. Don't pretend you don't know."

"Pretend I don't know _what?"_

"You want me to spell it out for you? You knew about magic! All those years! And you never said a word. You made out like you were just like the rest of us, but you weren't. It's no wonder you never took class seriously. You didn't care! You knew none of it would matter once you started here!"

"I took class seriously!" she hissed, trying to keep their conversation quiet. Unfortunately, Cole didn't seem bothered.

"That was really awful of you, Ray. I don't know how you can stand yourself. I bet you were laughing at us the whole time, weren't you? Stupid Muggle children -"

" _Quiet down!_ "

"- Scratching with our pencils and learning our maths, getting on hot busses every day and breathing in car exhaust, trying our best to work for our futures so our lives would be a bit less miserable -"

"What are you even saying?" she demanded. "What are you talking about? I never thought that! I'm just as -" she quieted - " _I'm just as Muggle-born as you_."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "Then it's no wonder you're in all my classes with me. It's no wonder you were up in the Hospital Wing with the rest of us for our check-ups. No wonder we see each other every week in Wizardry 101, how could I have missed you? It must be because you're _so_ quiet, and so well-mannered, of course -"

"What are you even talking about?"

"I know all about you, Ray," Cole went on. "You've got a brother here, don't you? In Slytherin? And you've got a Wizard father, isn't that what you said, that you're half-blood?"

"Who told you that?"

"I bet you've even got _two_ magic parents, doting on you day and night -"

"Stop it! I don't! That's not how it is! I was raised just as Muggle as you were _,_ I don't know what you're so mad about -"

"Shut it, Ray. Just shut up. I don't want to talk to you. You know, you've got magic, but you don't even deserve it," she said, getting more worked up than Ray had ever seen her. "Coming to school dirty all the time. Wearing clothes you don't keep clean or ironed. Being loud and getting into fights with everyone. You're just like all the Muggles Professor Byron talks about. They've got a term for people like you, it's 'Madblood', did you know that? Fits you perfectly! But it's for Muggle-borns! _And you're obviously not Muggle-born, are you?_ _WHY DID YOU EVEN COME TO SCHOOL?_ "

Cole sniffed. Ray gaped at her, and out of the corner of her eye saw an upper-classmen stand up and start toward them.

"AND THAT'S NOT EVEN THE WORST OF IT!" she bellied on. "This was supposed to be _special!_ This was supposed to be a new life for me! A fresh start! But _you're_ here! You ruin everything! You stupid, idiot, miserable -"

"Everyone alright here?"

The boy had come over. He was a prefect.

" _Yes,_ we're fine," Cole said hoarsely, and rubbed at her eyes. But the next second, she stuffed her book in her bag and walked swiftly from the Hall. Ray stared after her, pulse still thumping. _Where had that all come from?_

"What happened?" the prefect demanded.

"I... she just..." Ray tried, but the words caught. More than a few people were staring at her.

"Jiminy," said a boy sitting nearby. "She hardly said anything, Michael. It was like a dam burst. Must have had it pent-up for a while. Did you two know each other?" he asked Ray.

"We went to the same school."

"That so?" said the prefect.

She nodded.

"And you're both -" the sitting boy quieted, looking awkward - "you're both Muggle-born, are you? That girl called this one a… erm, a Madblood, Mike."

"Did she? Well, we can't have that… that's no good… but seeing as you're both, you know, Muggle-born…" the prefect seemed at a loss. "Well… it's too late to deduct any points now with her gone. You get back to your breakfast," he said. "And don't go near her again, got me? Or - actually, maybe apologize, next time you see her? I don't know what it was all about, but if you come around starting trouble I'll have a word with Professor Smith straight away. That could land you in detention, that could. You hear?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now... get back to your table."

Ray went, and as she walked she heard a Ravenclaw girl behind her say "Gryffin _duhh_."

Her face was hot, and she desperately hoped not too many people had overheard. She looked around for Rachael, who might be able to vouch for her, but she was nowhere to be seen, and so she went back to her seat flustered and not sure what to do. Why had Cole been so mad at her for keeping quiet about magic? Even now, all of this still seemed to good to be true. And she hadn't bothered Cole in the slightest, how was it _her_ that was the one ruining Hogwarts? It was Cole that had a bad attitude about everything!

Ray got back to her spot and sat down.

"What happened?" Kendra demanded.

"She just yelled a bunch! I'd only gone over there to talk things out."

"Well good thing you didn't get in trouble," Zach said. "She certainly had a lot to say."

"You heard?"

"Heard her shouting. It was kind of sudden, so I didn't really catch anything." He looked at Kendra - "Did you?"

She shook her head, eyebrows narrowed as always.

"Well, it was all wrong," Ray told them. She squished a potato with her fork. "She's got a complete misunderstanding of me. I've got to talk to her again."

"You sure that would help?" said Kendra.

"I don't know. But I've got to. What else can I do?" she said, continuing to press the potato mash. The white flesh came up in little bars through the prongs. "I've got to clear things up. And I never said what I went over to say in the first place! And, I should probably apologize, or something."

"Why? What did you do?" asked Zach.

"I don't know! I - don't - know," she said, then scooped the thoroughly mutilated potato in her mouth and swallowed. "I don't know what to do."

A moment passed, then across from them, an upper-year spoke: "You could leave her alone."

Ray's eyes shot to him - he looked familiar. Shaggy, blond hair, tired, and an unwaveringness in his murky blue eyes that said he'd heard enough to know what was going on. He was Riley, the third-year.

"But we're in class together," she protested.

"Doesn't matter," he said, and went back to his meat. "Some things are better to just let go."

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words didn't come. Instead she just watched him chew his raw-looking steak for a second before Kendra spoke up again.

"So anyways, Ray, you were telling us about the toads on your farm. You know anything that could help in Creatures?"

"Er, yeah…"

She started talking again, finding her way back to where she'd left things. But in the back of her mind, she kept thinking about Riley. Who was he to jump in on the conversation? What did he know? He might have been older than her, but she didn't think he was right. Just letting things go wouldn't do any good for resolving things, how could it? And the idea felt wrong, even if she didn't know exactly why.

* * *

Going to Herbology was a relief. She, Zach, and Kendra, and a boy named Ahmed from Zach's dormitory all worked on a team, and Ray got a huge laugh out of the Bouncing Bulbs they were supposed to be harvesting.

"Ack!" Kendra cried, as one shot up and knocked her aside the head.

Ray cracked up, and then cracked up again when she herself got nailed on her eyebrow a moment later. Zach was standing back a few feet from the plant, which was probably a smart move. Ahmed was right in the thick of things, trying his hardest, but not having any more luck than they were.

"Come on!" Ray said, clapping her hands together to try and catch a bulb (but missed, and it sailed right past her). "You've got to get in here!"

"Nah, I think I'm good where I am," he said, and scooped her bulb up off the floor before it could fly somewhere else again. "Someone's got to get the runaways, don't they?"

"There's _got_ to be a better way to be doing this," Kendra huffed, stuffing two bulbs angrily into the collection bag.

Ray had such a good time that it didn't even bother her when Samson didn't hear her calling out to him at the end of the lesson. He'd just left from Greenhouse 6, and was quite a ways away from them.

"That your brother?" Kendra asked. She was still sour.

"No," she said, giving up on trying to get his attention - "one of his friends!"

"Looks like Potter saw you," said Zach, and nodded ahead of them.

Potter was walking on his tip-toes, waving desperately in the air at the oblivious Samson, with two boys and Olivia laughing on either side of him.

"Ah, he can get stuffed," she said, not letting it bother her. "We didn't have any Defense homework, did we?"

"The reading," said Kendra.

"Ah, what was that about?"

They filled her in as they walked up through the castle, dodging trick steps on staircases and smacking suits of armor if they were the ones that made cool metallic reverberations (some weren't happy about this, saying "Ouch!" or "Oi there, you cheeky brat!", which Ray thought was hilarious). They took a quick detour when they got to one hallway - "Ooo, little Gryffindorkers!" they heard an evil voice tease; " _Peeves,_ " whispered Zach.

When they got to Gryffindor Tower, Ray caught Riley coming out of the Portrait Hole and slinking off down the corridor.

"I wonder what he's doing?"

"Who?" Kendra asked.

"That boy from breakfast this morning, Riley."

"I didn't see him."

"Might've skivved last period," Zach guessed.

"Maybe."

"What is 'skivved'?" asked Ahmed.

They continued on toward the Defense class. However, before they got much further, an angry voice shouted out behind them.

"Oye! Zuwaldt!"

It was Potter, with the two boys and Olivia, looking thoroughly ruffled.

"What happened to you lot?" said Kendra.

"Peeves," said one of the boys.

Ray had crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. Standard defense posture.

"And who are you two?" She asked. "Become some of Potter's lackies, have you?"

The boys looked from her to Potter curiously. They might have just been normal kids.

"They don't have to answer to you, Zuwaldt," Potter said obstinately. "But for your information, this is Brauk -" (Brauk raised a hand) - "and Omar."

"Hello," Omar said.

"We need to talk," Potter told her. "If you're still serious about the race -"

"Of course I am."

"- Then we need to figure some things out. Decide on some more details." He looked around and spoke to the group: "Nobody else needs to be here, if they're trying to get to class."

"We've still got a few minutes," said Kendra, and Zach nodded. Ray was glad for that. Potter looked at Brauk and Omar, who shrugged and stayed in place.

"Fine. Okay, because you _stupidly_ challenged me in the middle of the common room -"

"Oh, that's nice."

"- Now everybody's going to want to watch. Which means we've got two options. Either we do some laps around the Quidditch Stadium during our free hours, which is fine with me -"

"Of course you would! That would give you the complete advantage, wouldn't it?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Well it's not like I've done a lot of flying at Hogwarts. I'm a first-year, same as you."

"It doesn't matter. The whole point is to do it somewhere you're not familiar with. The stadium is too simple, it wouldn't be fair."

"Fine," he sighed, and then his tone shifted. "Have you really never ridden a broom before?"

She looked around at the others, face getting hot. It was going to be impossible to hide she was Muggle-born at this rate, if everyone in Gryffindor didn't know already.

"Not anywhere near as much as you have."

"Okay. Well, the second option is we do it in secret, and don't tell anyone when or where it'll be. Otherwise we'd get busted for sure."

"Fine by me."

"And if we don't do it in the stadium, it's breaking school rules. You sure you're okay with that?"

She shrugged coolly. "We just won't get caught."

Potter stared at her, but she thought she saw him smirk for half a second.

"Fine."

Olivia tugged at his sleeve and muttered something to him, but they were still nearly twenty feet away and she couldn't hear her.

"Ellen's not my Mum," he said shortly. "Okay, Zuwaldt, listen. If it's going to be just you and me, we'll be needing a judge, otherwise you'll complain I cheated or something -"

"I won't, unless you _do,_ but sure. I agree."

"- So it'll need to be a neutral third-party. That means none of your friends."

"Yeah, got it. And none of yours either."

"Right. So, I was thinking, we need to find someone older, who will judge fairly, and knows how to fly. I can find someone, if you're okay with that -"

"Not a chance, Potter."

"So you'll need to ask someone," he said exasperatedly, "and I need to be okay with whoever you pick. That work for you?"

"Sure, I can think of a few people."

Ray already knew plenty of upper-classmen, and there was no reason they had to be from _their_ house. And if worse came to worst, she could just ask Douglas or Rachael to recommend someone… although, neither of them would probably be okay with her breaking the rules, now that she thought about it.

"They'll have to be good flyers, so they can follow us, and not be members of the Quidditch team. I know for a fact that none of them would be willing to risk getting suspended before tryouts, so there'd be no point in asking anyway. And lastly - I want to know the course you come up with, at least three days before, so I can look it over."

"But -"

"I still won't fly, like I said, but I've got to know, otherwise I wouldn't have any idea where to go at all."

She chewed for a moment, then relented.

"Okay, fine."

"And you should show it to the judge, too, so they can get familiar with it too. In fact, the sooner you pick someone the better, so they can know the course just as much as you do."

"Okay. No problem."

"Do you have a broom you'll be using?"

Ray had thought about that.

"There's school brooms that are open access," she said. "They'll be the same make, so it's even."

Potter didn't look happy about that, but it wasn't like he could complain. If he had some sort of dragon-bone broomstick or something that let him fly a million miles an hour, there'd be no _way_ it could be called a fair match. And they both knew, at the end of the day, it would be the rest of their classmates that would decide whether or not the race had been done properly, so they had to keep things as even as possible.

"Well if you're picking out the brooms, then I want first pick of whatever the options are."

"What do you mean? Why does that matter?"

"It'll make it so you have to pick brooms that you _know_ are even, and you don't trick me into getting one that's shoddier. I know broomsticks, and I'll be able to tell if one's worse or not. Got it?"

That meant she was going to have to practice the same amount on both brooms, and she wouldn't be able to get super familiar with one like she'd been banking on.

"Got it," she growled.

"And we'll need a way to contact each other. You haven't got a writer have you?"

"No, I don't, but even if I did your tab would be the last thing I'd want in it. We're in all the same classes, we can talk to each other any time."

"Alright," he said, looking cross. "Then that's all I've got for now."

"Good."

She turned and strode off, Kendra, Zach, and Ahmed following her to the Defense classroom, while Potter's gang followed a ways behind. They got through the doorway just as the bells started booming. Dropping all composure, they all rushed to their seats, Potter and his gang by the door, while she, Kendra, and Zach on the opposite side of the room by the windows.

"I expect everyone to be in class on time," Professor Smith stated, staring hard at each of them. Looking at Professor Smith always made her feel like she was looking at an eagle that was deciding whether or not to tear her to shreds. But the bells had still been booming by the time she sat, so she should've been fine.

Thankfully, he didn't take any points.

"Textbooks out," he said, then turned to the board to write out the pages with his invisible hand. "We'll be breaking into groups today for the review portion, and your members will be chosen for you…"

Ray sighed, heaving _Anticipating and Evading Disaster_ out of her backpack. Defense was easily the most boring of their subjects. They couldn't even talk to one another, outside of discussing the reading. Some students managed to sneakily use their writers, but she didn't have that option either. If it hadn't been for her not wanting to lose points - and it being Professor Smith, of course - then she'd probably would have skivved off too. Same as Riley.


	34. Riley (Part 2)

Ray stopped at the entryway to the classroom. The Ravenclaws hadn't gotten there yet. Seeing her, Kendra let out an exasperated sigh and stared, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"You guys go ahead," she said. "I'm just going to wait out here for a bit."

"You gonna try and talk to that Cole girl?" Zach asked. Ray always appreciated how he was a bit less judgemental.

"Yeah. Go ahead."

"You _sure_ that's a good idea?" said Kendra.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "but it's better than doing nothing. I don't want her going around thinking she's right."

Kendra threw up her hands and continued to their desks at the front of the class, and after wishing her good-luck, Zach followed after.

Back in the hall, Ray found a spot to lean against and let her backpack slump to the floor. She watched students walk past. There were fewer of them than when they'd first left Fitness, but the crowds were still pretty strong. A group of Hufflepuffs went past and a boy whistled at her to the amusement of his friends, but she ignored them like her Mum had told her to. _Boys like to start bothering girls at a certain age_ , she'd said. _The best thing to do is to just pretend it's not peculiar in the slightest_. _They're only looking for a reaction._

She crossed her arms and let out a sigh. Standing by herself was awkward. There weren't even any statues to break up the scenery, only the flat surface of the wall behind her. Looking down at herself, she fiddled with her tie and vest to make sure they were straight, and smoothed her skirt. She stomped her well-worn boots once on the marble, feeling apologetic to them after having made Douglas transform them to be jet black like her Supply List had demanded. Maybe there was a way to reverse a _Colovaria,_ she thought, and she'd be able to turn them back in the end.

She wished she wasn't so poor. All her things were hand-me-downs or worn through from use. She wanted some of the long socks the other Gryffindor girls had. Magical girls in general seemed to like those long, knee-high stockings that were striped in the House colors, but she didn't have anything like that. She only had her two pairs of tights. At the very least, a good number of girls were wearing those too with the weather starting turn, so even with them being Muggle-wear she wouldn't stand out as much.

Down at the end of the hall, Ravenclaws began coming around the corner. Half of them had their noses stuck in their books in the typical Ravenclaw fashion (although, Ray couldn't tell if they were writers or not at this distance), and the others were talking amongst themselves as per usual. Straightening, she watched them for signs of Cole: first passed groups of twos and threes, then a big clump came all at once (Kendra's friend Natalie was part of this and said "Hey!" as she went into the room), and then there were a dawdlers and book-readers again, and then finally she saw her.

Cole's walk stuttered as they made eye contact. Then she glared and looked past, making to enter the classroom without a word. But Ray wasn't going to let that happen.

"Hey -"

"Stay away from me, Ray."

Before she could brush past, Ray lunged and grabbed her arm.

" _What are you doing?"_ she snapped.

"You were wrong about me," Ray told her, pulse thumping. "I didn't know I was a witch until just last year, and my brother's six years older than me, and we barely spent any time together."

"What?" she said. "What's that matter?"

"You had the complete wrong idea of me at breakfast yesterday."

Cole stood still for a moment, and seeing as they were just talking, the few remaining Ravenclaws who had stopped to watch lost interest and went in.

"Well, you're still not Muggle-born," Cole said. "You've still got magical parents -"

"Me Mum's a Muggle, and my father took off before I ever knew him," she said quickly. "My stepdad's more of my father than he ever was, and he's a Muggle too, so I'm practically as Muggle-born as you are."

Cole stuck out her chin defiantly.

"Well then you're just as bad as you were before. You're still the same gross, crazy, Madblood girl you were back at Birch's."

Her jaw dropped - " _What?_ I'm not gross!"

"Please. Of course you are. Covered in dirt, wrinkled clothing, oily hair -"

"I am _not_ covered in dirt! And I am _not_ oily, I take a shower every day I'll have you know!"

"Well then you must not be doing it properly, because you're a mess. Learn how to use a comb properly. Honestly, you've never taken care of yourself, Ray. You were always coming to school filthy. You spent half of every recess shouting your mouth off, and the other half getting sweaty running around the field. It's no wonder you ended up in the stupid house -"

"GRYFFINDOR IS NOT THE STUPID HOUSE!"

Cole watched her. A few of the passing students looked back in alarm.

"Just keep telling yourself that," she said, and before Ray could say another word, she clutched her bag and went into the classroom.

Fuming, Ray grabbed up her backpack off the floor and strode after her, not pausing to see what row she'd turned into and going straight away to the front of class. The bells boomed just as she dropped into her chair.

"How'd it go?" Kendra asked, dryly.

Ray pulled out her supplies and slammed them onto the table one by one. "She's so mean. I don't know what I ever did to her. She's just a stuck-up, prissy, pain-in-the-ass, smart-aleck. So what if my clothes get wrinkled? So what if I get dirty sometimes? We've just gotten out of PE! And I'm no dirtier than anyone else, I shower fine. And my hair isn't oily. Is it?"

Kendra opened her mouth, but didn't say anything.

" _Is it?"_ she asked, suddenly worried. She pulled her curls into her vision.

"You use shampoo?"

"Yes! But you're not supposed to use it all the time, or you could make your hair fall out!"

"Who told you that?"

"My Mum! But everyone knows that, don't they?"

"Er, not that I've ever heard."

Both Zach and Natalie had equally uncertain expressions on their faces.

"Could it be, um -" Kendra quieted her voice, "...Muggle shampoo, that you're thinking of?"

Ray stared at her, eyes wide.

"Look - just, wash it a bit more often, and that'll be that."

Ray shut her eyes groaned, sinking into her chair. They were going to be here for _two hours_ , and people were going to be looking at her nasty hair the whole time!

"Doesn't look bad to me," Zach said.

She stewed for a moment, then pushed backward and shoved herself upright in her chair.

"Thanks," she said. "At least it's not too noticeable, then."

"I can show you a folding spell for your clothes, if you like," said Kendra. "I can't get it quite right, but who knows, maybe you'll get it first try."

"Yeah. I guess."

"It'd be better than just stuffing it in your drawers."

She sighed.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks. Really."

"Sure. No big deal."

Kendra looked forward again, and Ray saw her cheeks were a little rosy. Just past her she caught Natalie's gaze, who was smiling at her awkwardly as if wanting to reassure her like Zach, but couldn't think of anything to say. Fortunately for her, Professor Marwazi came out of the back room at that very moment.

"Good afternoon, class," she trilled in her Indian accent. "Today we will be beginning the Wand-Lighting Charm, which some of you may know -"

She turned forward and listened in, trying to put her mind off things and let her embarrassment simmer out. Throughout the next hour, whenever Professor Marwazi asked questions she listened for Cole's snobby voice, but thankfully it never came. Potter answered once, but only got it half right, which made her happy. Then it came time for the practical lesson and she managed to achieve a slight glow before anyone else got anything, and both Kendra's resultant complaining and the points Professor Marwazi awarded put her back in good spirits again.

"Well I'm definitely going to get this one before you," Kendra said decidedly as they left class after the end of the lecture. "I'm going to practice it day and night, and then I'll be the one telling _you_ 'I don't know how I'm doing it'."

"But I don't!" she laughed. "I really don't!"

"I know," she said, but turned her head away.

"Why do you want to know it so bad?" asked Natalie, on her other side.

"I just want to beat Ray. But it's bloody useful too, isn't it? And once you figure out how to do colors, you'll be able to use your own wand for Astronomy, or for staying up reading at night and loads of other things -"

"You think they'll let us? In Astronomy?"

Natalie kind of had a timid voice.

"I don't see why not," said Kendra. "It's no different than those lamps. It might be a bit brighter, but it shouldn't be too hard to dim down once you're good. What homework have you got tonight?"

They compared, and as it happened Natalie would be doing two of the homeworks that they were.

"You should come study with us!" said Ray.

She looked thrilled at the invitation. "Where are you guys going?"

"Just the common room, right?" said Kendra.

"Yeah," said Ray, and Zach nodded when she looked at him.

"Oh, but, I'm a Ravenclaw," she protested. "I'm not sure if it's allowed -"

"Nonsense, it's got to be allowed," said Kendra.

"Yeah!" said Ray. "I see upper-classmen bringing people in all the time! Of course, it's probably their boyfriends or girlfriends," she snickered.

"Well… I guess we could try..."

"That settles it, then," said Ray. "So you said you're also doing Creatures, what lesson did you have last? Was it the one about mud types, or illnesses?"

"Um -"

Ray quizzed and corrected her all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, so when she finally sat down to do it on her own she'd have a proper understanding of the material. She talked a bit loudly, feeling fairly certain that the Gryffindors behind them were trying to listen in as well, until Kendra interrupted her and told her to explain her technique for casting the Wand-Lighting Charm. When they got to the Fat Lady's Portrait, everyone made Natalie cover her ears (and she shut her eyes, too, even though she didn't need to), and then they were through the portrait and dropping their stuff at a table near the unlit fireplace. Ray then made for the dormitories as per usual to change out of her uniform, which made Natalie hesitate.

"Come up, your already here," said Kendra.

"You're not going to start working on your things?" said Natalie uncertainly.

"We're going to change first," said Kendra.

"But… you're just leaving your stuff here?"

"Yeah. It'll only be a second."

"But…"

Natalie looked at the clusters of people pouring in and then back at their table, obviously uncomfortable with the whole thing. Ray thought she looked so small right then, standing there all nervous, that for a bizarre moment she had the urge to hit her. But instead she grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairwells.

"C'mon, it'll be fine," she said.

Natalie's voice wobbled as Ray tugged her: "But you're not worried about people mistreating your things?"

Ray slowed. That was actually a good point. Just because someone hadn't messed with it before didn't mean it wouldn't happen. What if someone recognized it for being Muggle-fashioned?

"That doesn't happen in Gryffindor," said Kendra authoritatively, making the decision for them.

"That's right," said Ray, and tugged her forward again to save face.

They went through the open doorway to the stairwell landing and parted with Zach, who sped up his stairwell to the boy's dormitories, and they went the other direction plodded up their own.

"This is so exciting," said Natalie. "I've never been in another House before. Do you think they're all in towers?"

"No," she and Kendra said simultaneously.

"Hufflepuff's near the kitchen," said Ray -

"- And Slytherin's down by where we do brewing," finished Kendra. "In the dungeons. Everybody knows that."

"Oh yeah," Natalie laughed.

When they got up to their dorm room Ellen was there, as well as Olivia and some of the other girls, who were doing the same thing they were. Ray told Natalie she could sit on her bed if she liked, which Natalie gladly accepted, then she herself made to change quickly. Her undergarments weren't as nice as some of the other girls', and she wanted to get into her robes as quickly as she could before anyone noticed. Unfortunately, she was interrupted.

"Hey, Weasley," Kendra called.

Ellen, who had been standing next to her four-poster and absorbed in her writer, looked up in curiosity.

"Can you manage the Wand-Lighting Charm?" asked Kendra. "Ray's practically got it."

Ray gaped at her. "I have not!"

"Oh, are we starting that?" she asked, coming over with Olivia. "I haven't got Charms until tomorrow. How's it coming to everyone?"

"It's coming okay," she said hurriedly, trying to dissuade people from congregating around her messy wardrobe. She also realized in that moment that she'd forgotten to go off and wash her hair after lecture like she'd planned.

"It is for _her_ ," said Kendra, casting Ray a glare. "Nobody else has gotten anywhere near."

"That's not true at all! I saw at least four people get what I did."

"Well, then why were you the only one Marwazi gave points to?"

She froze.

"Er, maybe because she saw me first?"

Kendra opened her mouth to argue, but before she could say anything else Ellen interrupted them.

"Let's see it, then," she said.

She took a breath. There was no easy way out. Pulling out her wand from the pile of her uniform, she brandished it in front of herself, and as with every time Kendra made her do magic, the other girls got interested and came crowding around just as she'd been worried about. Thankfully, she wasn't the only one in a state of undress.

Focusing on the dull, unvarnished wood tip of her wand, she positioned her fingers.

" _Lumos."_

The magic stirred within her, flowing ever so slightly. It was like when you get goosebumps and your hair stands on end, or when you go down in a lift and get all tingly, except still in that ethereal, magic sense she hadn't recognized until she'd done magic for the first time. Her wand tip glowed a pale orange.

" _Ooo_ ," said a few people.

"You've got a color worked out!" said Ellen excitedly.

Whipping out her own wand (which was a lot darker and nicer than hers), Ellen repeated the incantation and produced a bright, white light, as though there were an LED stuck right there on the end. It was very bright. A few people gasped, and much more enthusiastic praise was given than what she'd gotten - Natalie even clapped.

"Wow, nice one," said Ray.

She grinned. "I might've had a bit of practice..."

Kendra looked at her sharply. "Before you were allowed a wand?"

"Well, I used my parents'," Ellen said. " _Technically_ it's underage, but if you've got supervision and the spells aren't anything dangerous, then it's not something the Ministry worries about. They don't care about small things like that. And i didn't get many chances, mind you, but I did do a bunch of reading between attempts so I could make the most of the chances i got. I've always loved figuring out how a spell works - you know, I was thinking about getting into Crafting when I get older, but Spellwork would be just as fascinating!"

"Hah," said Kendra, "I suppose that's the Granger in you, isn't it?"

"I don't know," she said, but smiled, obviously fond of the idea.

Ray was curious about who this Granger was that everyone seemed to know about, but she was focused on shutting down her _Lumos_ at that moment. They'd said a word to stop it at the end of the lecture - _Nox,_ if she remembered right - but there were plenty of spells like _Wingardium leviosa_ that didn't need a deactivation, and all you had to do was stop feeding your magic to it. With _Lumos_ , it was more like you'd flicked on a flashlight, but of course there was no button to flick it off again on a magical wand. But she felt like she might be able to manage it, and eventually she did something that felt right, and her magic moved in the right way, and the glow faded.

"- But anyways, the color is a whole other part," Ellen was saying. "It's not like _Colovaria_ where all you have to do is think about it, you've actually got to say another word that matches the color, so it's quite odd how - hold on, did you put yours out?"

"Oh, yeah," she said. She fumbled her fingers back into position. "Hold on - _Lumos."_

The light came again.

"Good one, that looks brighter than before, doesn't it?"

Ray grinned - t was true. Kendra huffed.

"I don't see the color this time, though," said Ellen. "Maybe I just imagined it. Sometimes you can do the additional parts of spells just by thinking of them in the right way, in the same way you can train yourself to do wordless magic, but it's really rare. Wordless magic takes months to get right. Although, I suppose we all did it at one time or another when we were younger, before we learned to control it in the first place -"

"Can you do red?" Kendra asked.

"Uh, maybe," Ellen said, caught off-guard. " _Nox._ "

She studied her wand.

"And, let's see… _Lumos rubris!"_

A soft, rosy light came, not red, but definitely not pure white, either. More praise was given, and Kendra looked at it enviously.

"I swear," she grumbled, "you and Ray might be the best witches in our year."

" _What?_ " said Ray. "No way, she's miles ahead of me!"

"I don't know," said Ellen. "You _are_ pretty close to me on the Chart…"

"I've only gotten lucky! Really. If it weren't for Creatures and Herbology, maybe -"

"And Transfiguration," said Kendra. "And Charms. And Flying."

"No no no," she laughed, shaking her head - "you've got it all wrong. Maybe I do alright on the spells, but I'm rubbish at the important things."

"Well, it's really only the practical portions that matter in the end," Ellen sighed. "Unless you're wanting a job with your nose in the books all day. Which wouldn't be the worst thing, mind you, but it's not everyone's cup of tea. But I think you've got a great talent, Ray, at least from what I've seen."

Kendra looked triumphant.

"Well -" she said, flustered - "er, thanks."

"But that can be just as much trouble, you know. It might make you slack off, and if stop trying you won't get good notes on your exams. That's happened to a few people. But, in any case, we should probably let you get back to dressing..."

The girls laughed and disbanded, except for Natalie, who was still sitting on her bed, and Kendra, who was eyeing her wand. Face flushed with embarrassment, Ray tossed it to her (knowing she was seconds away from asking for it again), then turned to her dresser to quickly pull on a pair of old robes Rachael had dropped off. As she dressed, she heard Kendra behind her going " _Lumos, lumos, lumos,"_ as she swung her wand ineffectually.

Her face was still hot. She knew everyone hadn't been laughing at her, but that it was more so the situation, like what always got Douglas going, but still - she couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Not only because of the state of her area. Everybody was thinking she was great at magic, which wasn't true. After people picked up a spell, she didn't do any better than anyone else. It was just one of those things you got lucky at that didn't have any real skill involved. She knew what she was good at: taking care of animals, cleaning the equipment on their farm, and soccer. But they didn't have soccer here, they had Quidditch - which _was_ amazing, flying around and everything, even if the structure itself was odd.

She still wasn't feeling very sure of herself when they started back down the spiral staircase. Thankfully, Natalie got all excited when they came to the door leading out to the mid-way balcony, and they stopped to check it out.

As soon as they were outside, the temperature dropped about ten degrees and gusts of wind billowed against them. Natalie let out a whoop, but otherwise didn't seem to mind and rushed over to the banister.

"Wow! You can see the whole of the grounds out here!" she called.

It was true. Ray and Kendra followed her up and stood next to her, squinting through the wind. Ray pressed them all together to share their warmth, and Kendra looked at her, but didn't say anything.

Below, the grassy fields plummeted down to the lake, where the dark water bobbed and cross-hatched itself with waves. It was very, _very_ far down. Tall trees stood as sentinels along the rocky shore, and out in the distance bits of Hogsmeade poked out amongst the rolling hills. Above it all was the white sky, spotted here and there with patches of blue, and Ray took a deep, invigorating breath of the cold air. The smell was amazing - damp forest, decaying leaves, a trace of loamy soil from the vegetable gardens and the dampness from the lake. She wanted to be out in it right then, running through grass and kicking a ball around. She wasn't looking forward to winter and the stuffy interior of the castle.

"C'mon," said Kendra. "It's freezing out here. Let's get back to the table."

Ray's mood broke, remembering her unattended backpack.

"Ugh, that's right!" she said. "I wish we could stay a few minutes longer."

"You're crazy," said Kendra, teeth starting to chatter. "But stay if you like. We're going to start the homework without you, though, so don't take long.".

"Thanks! I'll be right behind you, promise."

They left, and Ray wrapped herself tighter. She looked out at the grounds again, but her pleasant mood wasn't there anymore. Kendra calling her "crazy" echoed in her ears. It hadn't been meant as anything serious, she knew, but it made her think of Cole and all the awful things she'd said.

The worst part was how true it all was. She had to stop blowing up and shouting all the time, she knew she did. Back at her last school, she'd gotten herself a pretty poor reputation, and she _definitely_ didn't want to start that here. She was constantly in detention, she'd alienated _everyone_ on the soccer team, and she was even starting to suspect Jordan and Heather were getting tired of her, which made her feel awfully sad. She hadn't even written them, like she said she was going to!

She stared down at the dark water, eyes hard. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just act like normal kids? Here she was, in a fantastic magical place, but she was the same old person she was at Birch's. She felt like she didn't deserve to be here. Like she didn't deserve Hogwarts. She hadn't even appreciated her last school.

In an attempt to push the thoughts away, she turned around and studied the cold stone edifice of Gryffindor Tower, but still felt a bit sick of herself. At the curved base (level with the balcony) sat an alcove with a lion statue, whose open maw was directed at her in a fierce snarl. Then, suddenly, as she watched, it yawned. Its stone tongue curled and its eyes squeezed shut very much like a housecat's, and she laughed once in bewilderment. Then it went still again, expression much more dignified, and something caught her eye: there was a pair of boots there, sticking out next to its base! Someone had tucked themselves away alongside it!

Curious, she went over and saw Riley, of all people, sitting there with something in his lap. She thought it was his writer at first, then realized it was more like one of those old-timey tablets you could watch TV shows on.

"Hey," she said, going closer.

He looked up, but didn't say anything. For a second she wondered if he recognized her.

"I, er, talked to that girl, just so you know."

His expression remained blank. "Who?"

"The one from breakfast yesterday. From Ravenclaw."

"Oh. Cool."

He didn't care. Ray tried a different approach.

"What are you looking at?"

"The game," he said simply.

Interested, she went over squeezed in alongside to him, but remained standing as there wasn't enough room to sit. It was hardly windy at all next to the statue, and a fair bit warmer - the alcove must have created an air pocket, or something, that the wind passed over.

She was glad Riley didn't try to hide away his screen. She never understood people that did that. As she watched, players on broomsticks flew back and forth through a stadium, silently tossing a red ball (the Quaffle, she reminded herself) between each other while keeping it away from the opposing team. The tablet was interesting in and of itself... it definitely wasn't Muggle-fashioned. It was as thick as a piece of glass, didn't look flexible in the slightest, and instead of any plastic casing there were only two metal handles with engraved patternings on either side. Wizarding technology definitely had some catching-up to do.

"What is that?" she asked.

"Puddlemere verse the Meteors," he said. "Sunday game."

"Oh, er, okay - and what's the tablet?"

On screen, the players slowed, then came to a stop altogether. He must have paused it, she realized.

"It's the Omniglass Sapphire, handheld edition."

"Woah! There's no way it's actually made of sapphire, right?"

He looked at her as though she were stupid. She would have defended herself, but she was caught off-guard again by how tired he looked.

"You haven't heard of these before?" he asked.

"Er… I just haven't seen one in person, is all. How'd you make it pause?"

"You just think it. Like with anything else."

He went back to the game, and in an instant the players were off again. It was a much better view than the soccer games she saw on TV. Rather than being stuck above the players and following them around like you were a drone, the camera was able to get in close as though it was being held by one of the players themselves. Did they have body cameras, she wondered? Or were there specially-enchanted flying video recorders that zoomed around amidst everyone? Those would probably cost a fortune, she bet, if they got damaged.

"Is there audio?" she asked. "Why don't you have the volume on?"

Wordlessly, he held the Omniglass up closer to her and let go of the nearest handle. She was meant to grab it, she realized. Excited, she clutched it, feeling like she was being offered one of his earbuds from a phone. The handle was rather warm and sweaty where he'd been holding it, but she only felt it for a second before a world of sensations washed over her.

" _Williams passes to Bryan,"_ boomed the announcer's voice, " _who takes it upfield - a spin there on his trusty Nova in an attempt to avoid a Bludger, but - OH! - it's okay, a hit, but he's shaking it off…"_

The stadium cheered, all around her, as Bryan kept on toward the hoops. It was like she was _in the game_. She felt the late-night energy of the crowds, breathed in the warm, breath-laden air billowing against her, took in the scent of savory meat pies and buttery popcorn from the stands. As the camera flew after Bryan, she felt the lurch in momentum; as a member of the opposing team came shooting toward her she braced for the collision, only for her stomach to drop as the camera pulled up at the last moment, as though it'd been planned the whole time. Her breath quickened, her heart aching for it. _This was what it was like_. She'd never wanted anything so badly in her life.

The announcer's voice boomed over the crowds - " _And a SCORE!"_

The accompanying band started up, but was briefly drowned out by the eruption from the crowd. She wanted to be there. She wanted to be in the game. She wanted to fly up and catch the Quaffle, dodge the other players, make a goal, have her team jump on her in celebration -

Quite suddenly, it was pulled away. She was back on the cold stone balcony, all sound and sensation gone, everything damp and gray again. Riley had taken the Omniglass back.

"That was _amazing_ ," she said breathlessly.

"Yeah, he's good," he said. "He could be a bit more evasive, but he knows how to carry the Quaffle."

She stared at the action on his Omniglass for another moment, wishing she could hold it again.

"I've _got_ to play Quidditch," she said determinately. "I've _got_ to."

Riley didn't say anything, having gone back to the game. But she didn't blame him. The balcony, quite clearly, paled by comparison. She took back whatever she'd been thinking about the device looking primitive - there was no way you could do that with normal technology, not in a hundred years.

"Excuse me," said a voice.

Ray looked up - there, a few feet away from them, floated Nearly Headless Nick, who was hard to see with the bright clouds behind him. At any other time the appearance of a ghost would have been another astounding, otherworldly trip for her, but after the rush of the Quidditch match it seemed rather plain.

She remembered the last time she'd talked to him. It was during the welcoming feast, when she'd first been Sorted. She'd asked him if Muggles had souls, and he'd said, carefully, that he didn't know, but he'd never seen a ghost from one. With him there she couldn't help but think of her family, and suddenly she wanted to be home again, just for a moment, to see them and hug them.

"Hi," she said.

Riley glanced up, but apparently decided to leave it to her.

"Good afternoon, young madam," said Nearly Headless Nick, floating a bit nearer. "Pardon the interruption, but I was wondering if either of you have seen a ghost with an arrow sticking out of his head."

That took her aback.

"No," she said.

"I see. I've been asked to search for him from some acquaintances of mine, you know. Please do keep an eye out, if you would?"

"Er, sure!"

"My thanks, young Gryffindor," he bowed, then after a last glance at Riley, departed.

She stood there for a moment, then looked at Riley again. Half of her wanted to get back in the game, but she couldn't imagine he'd offer it again. Plus, Kendra and everyone downstairs were waiting for her. And she had homework to do. Resigned, she shuffled sideways and extracted herself from the alcove.

"I'm going down to the common room," she told him.

"Okay," he said, not looking up.

"Thanks for letting me see your Omniglass!"

"Yep."

She blinked at his shortness.

"Well, see you."

"Mm-hmm."

She looked at him for a moment, wondering what she could have done to make him so rude. Had he only been putting up with her? Had he only shared the game with her because it was the easiest way to deal with her?

Then he clutched his fist victoriously and said " _Yes!"_ under his breath, obviously excited about something on-screen. She shook her head. He probably hadn't meant to be rude it at all - that might've just been how he was. Still feeling a bit awkward about their parting, she left the lion statue and made her way back to the doorway and pulled herself inside. She then pattered down the spiral staircase and into the bustling common room, her cheeks tingling at the warmth the whole way. Across the clusters of students, Zach, Kendra, and Natalie waved, having a chair ready for her.

"Hey, welcome back," said Zach.

"There you are," Kendra scolded.

"Are you really going to race that Potter boy?" Natalie asked, eyes wide. They'd been talking about her, then. "I heard he was good," she said, and then raised her eyebrows as if in emphasis.

"Yep," she said, plopping down into her seat. Then she grinned - "And I'm going to beat him, too."


	35. Zach

It was Tuesday, which meant there were eleven days until their race. Tryouts would be the following morning. It was still a while, but she already felt like she was running out of time. She hadn't even begun to practice outside of Fitness, instead spending her time doing homework and talking with Kendra, Zach, and the other first-years in the common room. But after ironing out the rules with Potter yesterday, the race had been on her mind ever since, and the urge was becoming impossible to ignore. Thankfully, it was a Toad Day, which meant her homework load was light and she got through it quickly.

"You going out to the stadium?" Zach asked, as she stood from the table.

"Yeah! Might as well, since the weather's not terrible."

She packed away her things, stowing her pencils and quills in the right pockets of her backpack and tying strings around her almost-completely-dry homework scrolls. To be honest, she was actually quite excited about flying - it'd have to be at the stadium, since that's where the school brooms were kept, and she'd never set foot in it.

"You want some company?"

She looked up, surprised. "For practicing? You want to come?"

"Yeah," he said, tossing his quill on his textbook. "I was thinking about it. Might as well while we still have light, eh?"

She grinned. "That'd be awesome!"

"But it's _freezing_ out there!" said Kendra. Ray looked at her - she was gaping at them.

"So what?" she said, spreading her arms. "We've got these great-big robes to keep our heat in! Plus once you get moving you warm up a lot."

"But what about the wind?" Kendra insisted. "Flying will make it four times as cold, easy."

Natalie spoke up: "But the, erm, brooms have slipstream spells on them, don't they?"

Kendra turned on her.

"What, you want to go out there too?"

"Oh no, you're right," she said, smiling apologetically. "It's much too cold."

Ray could almost see Natalie shrinking. Either she needed to stand up for herself more, or Kendra needed to stop being so sharp with everyone. Ray couldn't really tell Natalie to get a spine just yet, as they didn't know each other that well, but she could definitely talk to Kendra the next time it happened.

After a brief discussion, they decided to split up. Kendra and Natalie stayed behind, while Ray went to the dorms with Zach, she breaking away when they got to the landing area. On the way up she eyed the mid-way balcony, wondering if Riley was out there, but made no move to investigate.

The dorms were empty, aside from Abby and Samara, who were chatting on their beds. They waved a friendly greeting when they saw her, and she said hello before going over to her enormous bed and dresser. She picked up her hairband from next to the oil lamp and stuck it on below Kendra's witch-hat, checked her hair in the mirror, then shrugged off her backpack and set it on the bed. To this she added her jogging clothes from her top-drawer.

With her backpack open she was suddenly struck by how full it had become. Not only was it holding her homework and textbooks, but all her potions equipment, her witch robes, a box of practice matches she'd nicked from Transfiguration (which she was regretting having done, even though nobody'd noticed), her notebooks, her writing materials, and now her jogging clothes on top of it all. Were the Undetectable Extension Charm to give up suddenly, there was no doubt the pack would split at the seems. That, she found very concerning. You weren't supposed to mistreat your things, or put them at risk of damage. However, she knew that wasn't the case here - this was how things worked in the magical world, and it was just another thing she'd have to get used. Heck, there was plenty going on that was dangerous. If her Mum saw all the free-floating candles around the place, there was no doubt she'd be calling the governance board in a minute with some very strongly-worded questions regarding their fire safety regulations.

Smirking to herself, she shouldered her backpack and went down the torch-lit stairwell to the common room. Zach had yet to arrive, she saw, and she waited by the porthole, ansy and bouncing on her heels. Kendra and Natalie were still nose-deep in their books at the study table, and she saw that Ahmed had joined them.

Zach came clomping down the stairs a moment later. He was grinning, dressed in his flashy flying robes, and once more she was reminded of being the only one in their year without a pair. Even the two other Muggle girls had gotten their hands on previously-used outfits. Excitement falling, an unhappy thought came to her - Potter was going to have flying robes too. Nice ones, no doubt, and they hadn't made any rules against it. That would put her at even more of a disadvantage.

"You ready to go?" Zach asked.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

"Something wrong?"

"Nope!" she said, and smiled. "Just want to get started."

It was true, to. There was no use worrying about Potter, and the best thing she could do right now was hone her broomstick skills. They went down through the castle and got to the west exit on the main floor. Pushing their way through, the cool air flooded over them, and she took a big, deep breath of the refreshing outside air. It was great being out of the castle. The weather was even better than earlier, they sky a brilliant blue and the sun shining down over the rolling grounds. Off to the left the land sloped down to the lakeshore, where it levelled out before meeting the bright, sparkling water. Up ahead of them in the distance were some people walking up to the large shape of the stone stadium.

She grinned - "Let's go!"

Without giving him time to answer, she took off running down the dirt path. Wind rushed over her, billowing against the brim of her hat, and she tied the straps under her chin without pausing. Plodding to a stop, she laughed in exhilaration, and Zach came thudding up behind her. They'd made it to the lull in the slope.

"That was a surprise!" said Zach, catching his breath.

"You gotta stay on your toes if you're going to hang out with me!" she said proudly.

"It's been a while since I sprinted like that."

"Sprinted? That was just a bit of a run!"

He laughed.

"Been a while since I've had a chance to fly around, too," he said and looking up toward the stadium.

Following his gaze, her eyes went to the people ahead of them. It was a small group of three upper-year boys, who were all trekking up the slope with dark brooms over their shoulders.

"Last time was over the summer," Zach went on. "My parents took my brother and me camping."

"I thought your brother was a Squib?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Little brother."

"I didn't know you had a little brother! How old is he?"

"Nine."

"Mine's five!"

"Think he's headed for Gryffindor?"

"He's, uh," she faltered. "He's probably not even headed for Hogwarts."

"Oh."

"Think those boys will camp out for long?" she asked.

Zach squinted at them. "The Hufflepuffs?

The boys were clad in flying robes with yellow detailing, similar to how Zach's were in red. Did everyone around here have custom-made clothing? Or was there just a huge market for Hogwarts gear?

"I don't know," he said. "Whatchu wanna know for?"

"I need to try my route."

"Oh. The out-of-bounds one."

There was a note of disapproval in his tone.

"Yeah. But don't worry, there's no way I'm going to get caught."

"How can you be sure?"

"It's over the forest. Nobody goes in the forest, do they? And if I stay in the branches, nobody will be able to spot me, unless they're way up high in a tower and have a telescope pointed exactly where I am."

A thought came to her, and a tendril of worry rose. Out-of-bounds areas were still monitored at her old school, without the need for people to be watching. "There's no such thing as wizarding security cameras, is there?"

He shook his head.

"But, how do you know nobody will be there?" he went on. "Upper-year Care of Magical Creatures goes out that way, don't they?"

She didn't know about that.

"Er, maybe... but it's after classes."

"Yeah, true," he said. "But the forest is still dangerous. It's forbidden for a reason."

"I'm not going over the forbidden part," she said, starting to get annoyed. "There's a running trail that goes up to a big old tree, I've gone jogging on it before."

"Hmmm."

"There wouldn't be a jogging trail if it wasn't safe," she insisted. "Besides, you don't have to come. And I don't even know if I'll be able to get to it, with that lot hanging around -" (she flung a hand at the Hufflepuffs) "- And there's only a few hours till dinner, right?"

"Right."

They walked in silence for a minute.

"You ever been that high before?"

"What do you mean?"

"Those are tall trees... like forty, fifty feet."

She looked at the tree-line, where the cluster of big, rotund cabins was nestled in amidst the trunks. It was true - as large as those buildings were, even the smallest of trees was nearly twice as high. She'd never gone that high before. In Fitness they stayed pretty close to the ground, and the only other time she'd been up off the ground was when she went climbing on roofs with Jordan and Heather. And those were maybe only been fifteen, twenty feet - her toes tingled in her boots.

"Well, how bad can it be?" she said, ignoring the feeling.

As they grew near the stadium, she couldn't take her eyes off it. It was very big and grandiose-looking, like one of those old Roman colosseums, though absent of any crumbling, obviously. It stood out boldly before the dark trees like some sort of guard, keeping the forest at bay, and as they approached she could almost feel its enormity in the air. How many years had it stood? The architecture looked old, but it was so well-kept that it could've been built a decade ago.

The upper-year Hufflepuffs entered an arched tunnel and were enveloped by shadow. After another minute of walking, they caught up to them and entered below the looming wall. None of the tunnel's torches were lit, and there was a dampness that she'd come to expect in the dark, stoney recesses of Hogwarts. However, there was no shortage of fresh air, the wind from the grounds funnelling through and urging them along to the other end. This was partly blocked by a wooden gate, which stood well over head-height, but appeared to have posed no challenge for the Hufflepuffs: the right door was ajar, just enough for a few people to walk through. Half way there they passed two brightly-lit staircases branching out on either side, and as she looked up them she saw little squares of blue at their tops. That was where the tunnel was wanting them to go, she knew intuitively. It was probably where the stands were.

Her nerves were starting to get going. Would they get in trouble, if they were caught in the stadium without a teacher's permission? There was probably some rule written down somewhere that a professor could use against them. Something about the dark and the quiet made the whole thing feel very against-the-rules, and that went strictly against her fresh-start regimen.

Zach went through the gate. She followed, and immediately, all her worries were swept away. The place was enormous! All around her towered the walls, blocking off everything but the blue sky. They covered a fifth of the field in shadow on the far side, and as for the field itself - it was nothing like what she'd expected. Unlike the ones on TV, this could never be described as dry, or plastic, or worn down and scabbed with patches of dirt. It was dense, dark, and lush, just as a wild meadow might be. And it looked completely intentional! At first, she'd wondered if it might've gone without a trim for a while, but the more she looked at it the more it made sense. You didn't need flat grass if it was a flying game. And they certainly looked after it, with how uniform it was. There were no weeds, or dead grass, or irregular clumps, and she wondered if there were even any puddles or mud or bugs at all. She couldn't imagine so. It must've been a showpiece, something that added mystique to the games. It looked perfect.

Center-field was a group of boys, throwing a disc to one another in a game of tackle-Frisbee. Right nearby were the Hufflepuffs, who had huddled their packs on the ground and were laughing at something from their classes as they got their gear in order. Next to them - and Ray blinked, because she hadn't seen them a second ago - were three humongous, brass poles, sinking directly into the ground without any sort of concrete block or bolts to anchor them, with small hoops way up at their tops. They looked a lot taller and skinnier than they had in Riley's Omniglass, but then again, she'd been looking through the eyes of someone level with them. She craned her neck - it was way, way up in the air.

Shouts from the Frisbee players carried over to her on a breeze, and as it wafted over her she closed her eyes. She took a breath, filling her lungs, then let it out and took another, the scent of the field filling her, the feel of the sun on her skin, the freedom the field granted to run and shout without anyone telling them off. It was incredible. Beautiful. Happy memories of her soccer days came, and she relaxed, not even realizing she'd been tense. It was better than she'd felt in a long, long time.

"So," said Zach. She opened her eyes, and was glad to see him smiling, appreciating everything just as she was. "Erm, how are we getting brooms again?"

Brooms. She blinked.

"Oh. Right."


	36. Zach (Part 2)

"You said there was an equipment closet, right?"

"Yeah! It's next to the lockers," she said. "Not sure where those are though…"

"Could be over there?"

He nodded toward a tunnel centered in the middle of the stadium's curve.

"Right! Good thinking, if that's not where they are, I don't know sports."

She set toward it, and Zach came after, their boots swishing in the grass.

"Is it open?"

She slowed. Kev and Ashley hadn't said anything about that.

"If it isn't, there's probably a gap at the top that we can _Wingardium leviosa_ them through."

" _Huh?_ " he said, boggling at her.

"What?!"

"You're serious? There's no way I can manage a whole broom! I barely made it through the pinecones! You really think you can do that?"

She laughed, starting forward again. "Sure. I mean, I've got the hang of the spell by now, and didn't Marwazi say the size of the object doesn't matter? I even heard Ellen talking about her grandad or something who did a troll's club in his second year -"

"But that's different! She also said precision was something you had to work on, and you'll need that if you want to, you know, guide it over a door. And you'd have to sustain it for a long time too."

Annoyance was creeping up again. Why was he doubting her? Even if it did need something technical, she was sure it wouldn't be too hard after an attempt or two. Did he think she wasn't capable?

"We don't even know if it's locked yet," she said. "Let's take a look at it before we start freaking out about things."

He didn't say anything, and she realized he hadn't been following her. He'd stopped a few paces back and was looking at the Hufflepuffs, and in an instant she knew what he was thinking.

"What are you doing?" she asked, anger bubbling up.

"Let's ask one of them!"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They might get us in trouble."

"But using the brooms isn't against the rules, is it?"

She hesitated.

"I also don't want to bother them," she said. "Besides, they're upper-classmen. And they're probably on their Quidditch team! I doubt they'd go out of their way for a couple of first-years, and there's probably some rule about us needing supervision or something -"

"Well, fortune favors the bold, eh? Hey, 'scuse me!"

Glaring, she crossed her arms. The boys looked up, and the blond one - who was also the leader, she felt, responded.

"What's up?"

She watched him cautiously. He had sandy-blond hair, a narrow nose, and was the tallest of the bunch. He was already mounted on his broom, too, waiting for his friends to finish putting their gear on. What kind of person was he?

"You think you could… erm, help us?" said Zach.

The boy glanced over at her, then back at him. "You wanting the school brooms?"

His tone was friendly, thankfully.

"Yeah!" said Zach. "How'd you know?"

The boy swung his leg off his broom and set it gently in the grass.

"Not normal for people to come out with flying robes and no broomsticks, is it?" he said. "It's okay, I can get you."

He said something to his friends (one of whom was wrestling a large, blood-red ball out of a leather pouch), and strode their way. Zach shot her a grin, and she let him have it, rolling her eyes.

"You two Gryffindors?" said the boy.

"Yeah," she and Zach said in unison.

"That's a good house, that is."

He led them into the tunnel. The stone floor was gritty with dirt and dry grass, and their boot scuffs echoed off the walls. A lingering smell of sweat came from the doors at the end, of which there were two: one on the left and another on the right, with the right one gated by a wooden door. That was the equipment closet, she knew intuitively. And there was definitely enough room to float a broom over.

"' _Lohamora,_ " the boy cast. A thunk sounded.

"That was the _Alohamora_ spell!" she said. "You didn't pronounce it right!"

He gave her a smile. "Hardly even need to pronounce it at all, really."

"Why? I've been trying for ages!"

"You can do wordless magic?" asked Zach.

"Sure," said the boy. "You gotta, if you want to pass your fifth year. I learned seven myself, and now I've got to do another twelve by March." He let out a puff of breath at the idea. "Well go on, then."

They entered the dark space. The room was large, stone, and cobwebbed in the far corners, the scent of dust mingling in with an even heavier gloom of sweat. Most of the room was filled by a number of light, wooden crates, stacked up against the facing wall. Clumps of haphazardly-organized brooms were way over on the right, squeezed in next to a big, metal contraption covered in a moldy blanket. There were also four polished, black, official-looking boxes just to the side of the doorway that rattled alarmingly as they passed (she shared a look with Zach and guessed that they must have the official Quidditch balls), and above those was an enormous, sheathed scythe, holstered securely on the wall. She didn't know who was supposed to use that - it looked too big for even three men to use, let alone one, and would hardly be effective at that point.

Behind them, the upper-year spoke.

"You two signing up for your Quidditch team?"

"Just me," she said, turning and walking backward.

The boy was leaning against the door frame, tightening one of his gloves. Ray thought he looked rather cool, there, with the light on him the way it was, and him in his flying robes. Whatever feelings of annoyance she had evaporated away. He looked like a professional player.

"Which position?" he asked.

"Chaser!" she said.

"Oh-ho! Girl after my own heart. Well practice hard, that's a good team, that is. I was about to captain it before I switched houses."

That sparked something in her memory. He was about to captain it? So he used to be Gryffindor? Bits of things Kev said came back to her, and she made the connection.

"You're Louis?"

"You got it," he winked. "Heard of me, have you?"

"Yes! From Kev and the others!"

"Only good things, I hope. How's a firsty like you get to talking to that lot?"

"I go running! Well, that is, I run with them in the mornings!"

"Nice, I need to get back on that."

Louis looked out of the room, back down the tunnel. "Well, you tell them I said hello, will you?"

"Sure!"

He said thanks, then reminded them to shut the door properly when they left, and went. She turned to Zach and grinned, but his back was to her and he was inspecting the brooms.

"Find any good ones?" she asked.

"Kinda. So, how early you get up for that, anyway?"

"Get up for what?"

"Running."

"Oh. _Early,"_ she laughed. "Like five or six, way before the sun's up."

He whistled, then tugged a broom out.

"This or these two look good," he said, pointing her.

"How can you tell?"

"They just… look a little less shoddy," he laughed.

Picking one, she saw title _Dust Devil_ scrawled in shimmering orange writing on the handle. She took it over to a crate and shrugged off her pack, setting it on top. It wasn't like she could take it flying - and the closet was safe enough, she thought. A big part of her wanted to keep it in sight, but there was hardly anyone in the stadium, and they were the only ones that needed equipment, so she forced herself be comfortable with it.

"What broom have you got?"

"Cleansweep Sixty," he said.

Back out in the stadium, Ray planted a foot against the thick grass and shot up.

"Woah!"

Despite its unsporty appearance, the field was a lot easier to kick off from than the courtyard - almost instantly she was up twenty feet.

"Repulsion charm!" Zach laughed. "I think it's _impedimenta_ -d, too, in case you fall!"

"Not sure what that means! But cool!"

They spent the next hour racing each other from one end of the stadium to the other. It was brilliant, flying - wind blasting over her, clearing her hair from her face, tugging at the brim of the witch hat. It was bloody cold, but she was having too much fun to care, and now that she'd gotten her balance figured out in Fitness she could really enjoy it. She didn't even mind her robes flapping around like a parachute, or never quite catching up to Zach. There were still eleven days, after all, and she had her jogging outfit for when the time came. Hell, if she was practicing with a parachute the whole time, who knew how good she'd get?

The only downside was the other people. Practicing her route hung at the back of her mind, but it'd be stupid to try and take out a broom with the Frisbee players and Hufflepuffs watching. Even if they didn't care about the broom, there was no way they'd let her go out over the forest. It really seemed to freak everyone out. Not even Kev and Ashley liked going on the running trail, it seemed like, even though it was very pretty - they'd only taken her twice since school started.

Up near the hoops, the Hufflepuffs were all zig-zagging around after their ball, trying both to capture it and knock each other away. She'd thought the ball might've been a Bludger, but it wasn't at all keen about coming into contact with anyone, so it seemed. She couldn't figure out the point - it was obviously for practice, but Bludgers were supposed to go after you, weren't they?

They also looked weird, when she was at a distance. The narrow shafts of the brooms were nearly invisible next to the bulk of their bodies, and it seemed like they should've been riding around on hover-bikes, only there was no loud buzzing, no bulky machinery, and no big battery on the ground to charge them up when they ran out of juice. Obviously because brooms never needed juice... as far as she knew, anyways.

"You want to go higher?" Zach called.

She looked at him. He was ahead of her and a couple feet up, looking perfectly at place in his flying robes, only holding onto his broom with one hand. He must have seen her watching the Hufflepuffs.

She looked down at the field, fingers sparkling from the height. It felt good enough - it was already as high as she'd ever been, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to go much more. With nothing between her and the ground except a bit of wood it didn't really sound appealing.

"You're going to have to go higher if you want to play Quidditch," he called. "Or practice your… you know."

She shot him a look to tell him shut up, then sighed. He was right. She concentrated, focusing on her broomstick handle.

"Okay!"

Zach went up, and she pulled her handle in close, leaning forward to follow him. He rose, and rose, and she kept hoping he'd stop, but his rate was steady. They rose five feet, then ten, then fifteen. The wind grew, battering against her. A shudder ran through her broomstick - was it less reliable at greater heights? The wind grew stronger still, blowing away her heat and letting cold sink into her bones. Just how high were they going to go?

Finally, he slowed.

"How's your - how's your broomstick?" she called.

"It's alright. It keeps wanting to fly sideways! But it's not bad."

A gust of wind came up behind her and she rocked forward. Below her the ground loomed, the walls of the stadium stretching out, the Frisbee players frozen in their places. Heart thumping, she grappled at her broomstick handle and re-oriented herself, pulse going at a hundred miles an hour.

"You alright?" he laughed.

"Yeah! Fine!"

They were almost level with the tops of the walls, and finally she saw where the stands were. Heart still thumping like crazy, she swallowed and forced herself not to look at the plummeting drop. Then in a spur of showmanship she went higher still, until she saw the woody seats of the bleachers, painted earthy tones of red, yellow, blue, and green. Past them, the sky opened up, its blue washed out, wisps of clouds scattered like a painter's brush strokes. Hogwarts Castle peeked up on one side, and she recognized the sun had lowered a lot from where it was earlier. At the moment it was partway blocked by an announcer's booth, blinding her when she looked its direction, but she was still glad for its warmth. The bit of light breaking past the booth's shadow sat against her skin, fighting off the chill.

"Let's go, then," said Zach, and he flew past her to the other side of the stadium.

Hands shaking, breaths coming in quick, she came about and steadied herself. Then she shot after him, skirting the rim of the stands. It was a lot easier moving - the worries of the height fell away, and soon enough she was able to enjoy herself again. They did a lap, and she took deep breaths of the wind, happiness rising her chest. This was what she was supposed to be doing. This was where she was supposed to be. Her, Zach, the other players, all out enjoying the September daylight. And she was _practicing_. She was finally, finally out practicing again, with a brand-new sport in her future, and games to attend, and if she beat Potter in their race, ones she might even be able to play in. And this time there was no one there to tell her no.

" _Whoo-hoo!_ " she screamed.

* * *

They landed, and Zach set off for the lockers without her. Clutching the broom to her chest she hurried after him, her legs wobbly and buttocks a bit sore from the broom.

"Oh man, I need some flying robes!" she groaned, once at his side.

He gave her a sideways glance - "Yeah?"

She narrowed her eyes. That was a little abrupt. Was being short with her?

"Yeah," she went on, studying him. "They've got a protective layer, don't they?"

"In the pants?"

His tone seemed normal. Maybe she was imagining it.

"Yeah. Don't they have padding?"

"They do. Why haven't you got a pair?"

"I didn't buy any."

"Whatchu you mean? It's your parents that buy them for you, surely."

She pursed her lips. "That's what I meant."

"Right. Well, why didn't they?"

"They didn't have the funds," she said, looking away. She wasn't sure if she liked Zach asking about that.

"Not even for something second-hand?"

"No, man."

He fell silent. Face prickling, she watched the Frisbee players making their way to the entry tunnel.

"Good, that's them, then," she said. "Now just the Hufflepuffs!"

She heard him groan and whirled on him.

"What?"

"No, it's - it's nothing."

She stared at him hard, but he was still looking ahead.

"Tell me!"

"It's no big deal," he said, grimacing. "You've just been going on about them. Like, the entire time."

Her jaw dropped. "I have not!"

He glanced at her again, but didn't say anything. Her pulse thumped.

"What are you even talking about?" she demanded, closing in on him. "I haven't complained about them once."

"You kinda have," he said.

"Look at me! When?"

"All the way here. When we first got going. Every twenty minutes or so."

"WHAT? I have not! You're completely exaggerating!"

He shrugged.

She backed off. Had she actually?

"Alright, I might have said something once or twice," she said, "but I've got to try my route, and I can't do it while they're hanging around!"

"Yeah, you said."

She stuck her broom handle at his chest - "Why are you being an ass to me?"

He stopped, pushing it aside.

"I'm - I'm not," he said. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be."

They fell to silence and went forward again, and she looked ahead at the locker's tunnel. What was Zach thinking? Where was this coming from? And why wasn't he talking?

"There's no reason to be rude," she went on. "If it was bothering you, you should have said something. I can't read minds you know."

They got to the tunnel, and she saw him looking back at the Hufflepuffs. Following his gaze, her mood lightened - they were finally coming down!

"About bloody time!"

"If I were you," said Zach, boot scuffs echoing behind her, "I'd be more concerned about flying robes."

Her anger rose.

"Weren't you listening to me?" she said. "I haven't got the funds."

"No, I mean -" he paused.

What didn't he get? Was he going to _make_ her say she was poor? It really wasn't that difficult to understand, she shouldn't have to spell it out for him.

"What I mean is, I'm sure there's other options," he said, making his tone softer. That almost made her more angry - no apology, and he was still going on about it! "You could look for a cheap pair," he went on. "Something they'd be willing to shell out for. Besides, they're required materials! On the school supply list. Didn't they see that?"

"No," she said. "They didn't look. My parents are Muggles, remember."

"Then…" he slowed, and she continued past him. "How'd you get your things?"

She sighed. "My brother took me. He's seventh-year, remember?"

"Right!"

Barking a single laugh, she ducked into the equipment closet. Her eyes went first to her backpack - it was just where she'd left it, like she'd been telling herself the whole time. Zach entered behind her.

"Actually, now that I think about it, he said they weren't needed," she went on, setting the broom back with its cluster. "He'd said we only did flying in the autumn, and that normal robes work well enough for that."

"Maybe for classes," he said, doing the same with his own broom. She set her hands on her hips. "But they're not any good if you're actually wanting to play. They hold the air in a lot more."

"Yeah, I figured that out, thanks."

He made eye contact. At close quarters, the height difference was a lot more noticeable.

"Well I'd look into it. I can't imagine you'll be able to play without them."

"I'll cross that bridge when I get there. And actually -" suddenly remembering, she went and pulled her jogging outfit out from her backpack. "What do you think about these? They're a lot closer fitting! Won't catch the air, you know? I thought they'd come in handy!"

"Your Muggle clothes?" he said, crossing his arms.

Her eyes widened and she set them down, stepping away from them.

"I guess they'd work for your race," he said. "Is that what mostly what you're worried about? Just beating Potter?"

"No! I want to play! I love sports, and I haven't gotten to play for a whole year."

"Oh yeah, soccer," he said, like he was suddenly remembering the most popular sport in the world.

"Yeah. Soccer. But I'm excited to see what Quidditch is all about. I wouldn't do something like this just to beat Potter, there's easier ways to do that."

"Why the race then?"

"It was his idea!"

"Couldn't you have suggested something simpler?"

"I -" she stopped. "I didn't think of it at the time."

"Well, good thing we're practicing," he laughed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, temper rising. "You think I can't do it?"

"No! It's just, he's got more experience, hasn't he?"

She crossed her arms. "Still sounds like you're saying I'm bad."

He sighed looked past her, and her anger rose even more.

"You just haven't seen me in Fitness," she said. "I do _at least_ as well as everyone else. Better than some, even," she said, thinking of the other Muggle girls.

"Well... I've seen Potter."

Oh. Right. The words popped her confidence like a balloon, and she felt all her air leak out.

A moment passed.

"How good is he?"

"Pretty good."

She felt like she was crumpling. Even after their practice, he still thought Potter was way better than her. Just how much harder did she have to train? Did she need to do more than just after-class practices? Was this something she'd have to commit to morning, noon, and night?

Zach pulled out his writer and tugged its quill from the binding, leafing to a page.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"Kendra," he said. She saw her little maroon-colored tab at the top. "She's wondering where we are. C'mon, let's go get ready for dinner."

He made for the door, but her boots were rooted in place. Food suddenly didn't seem that important, even if the tightening in her stomach said otherwise. She had eleven days. Only eleven days. Which was an astonishingly short amount of time, now that she thought about it. And Potter had been flying for years. Worry rushed through her, prickling her fingers. Did she even stand a chance? Was he going to mop the floor with her?

Zach was at the doorway.

"I'm going to stay," she said.

He turned.

"To keep flying?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna try your route?"

She swallowed. "I think I'd better."

"You know, if you go out of bounds -"

"Yeah, I know!" she said, pulse rising. She did _not_ need a lecture right now. "But I don't have any other options, do I? The stadium is too easy. We can't go over the grounds, we'd get in just as much trouble there as we would the forest. And, really, I can't go at any other time of the day," she said, realizing. "It's too risky outside of meal hours because people might be here. You saw how long it took for those the Frisbee guys to clear off, and then the Hufflepuffs -"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, poking his writer back in a pocket.

Fury surged.

"So don't go telling me I've got other things I can be doing! I need help! Not you reminding me I can't afford proper robes, or how much worse I am than Potter, I need practice! I need training! Sorry if I worry about people hanging around, or not having enough time, or being spotted and getting in trouble!" She was shouting now. "You don't get it! Do you have any idea how hard I'm trying not to act up? What have you ever had to worry about? You've been a wizard since day one, and here I am with all these things to learn, and rules to follow, and I've no idea what I'm doing -"

"Okay!" he said, raising his hands. "Okay, I'm sorry! I get it, alright?"

"It doesn't sound like you're sorry!" she said, heart hammering.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, and lowered his hands.

There was a pause.

"Well see you after dinner, then," he said, and left through the doorway. Her mouth dropped and hurt climbed inside her. That was it? He was just going to leave like that? They were right in the middle talking, and he was just going to go? What kind of person was he?

She went after him. He was already halfway down the tunnel, his figure silhouetted against the bright opening.

"That's it?" she demanded.

He turned, arms spread. "What am I supposed to say?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She didn't know what she wanted him to say. But he couldn't just leave like that. She was still mad at him, but he needed to explain himself, to _talk_ to her, to be her friend, but all of that came up at once and she couldn't think of how to put it into words.

"I already apologized, didn't I?" he said.

"Yeah. But I know there's something you're not saying!" she said, a heavy, hollow feeling in her chest. "Don't think I don't!"

"Look," he said, and took a breath. "You've got to do what you've got to do. And it doesn't sound like there's any way I can change your mind, is there?"

She stared at his silhouette for a moment, brain stuck. She felt like her eyes were watering.

"No," she said.

"Then I'll see you after dinner. Okay? Good luck."

"Fine."

"And try not to get caught!"

"...Okay."

And then he left, turning out of sight beyond the tunnel's edge. A second passed, and then she returned to the darkness and dustiness of the closet. She went all the way up to the brooms, then back to the doorway, then back to the brooms again. Zach just left her like that. It wasn't like him. They were supposed to be friends, and he was supposed to have her back, not make fun of her, or abandon things before they were settled. Honestly, she and him were closer friends than she was with Kendra, weren't they? At least she thought so. But how well did she actually know him? They'd spent a few weeks hanging out together already, but how much had they actually talked?

She was clutching a broom handle without realizing it. Her thoughts refocused. Talking had to wait until later. Right now, she had to do this.


	37. Ray (Part 2)

Each broom was busted up in a slightly different way. Some had their handles chipped from ramming into stone, some were stained dark and worn down like old furniture, others had tail bindles all scrunched up or twigs exploding all over the place. She wanted the best quality one she could find, and after being in Fitness for a few weeks she was starting to get an idea of what to look for. Digging into the clump, she found a foggy black one covered in scratches. However, the tail was in good shape and there were no splits or bends in the wood, and there were even some remnants of its emerald branding on the handle: _Ni b 2 50_. It must have belonged to the Nimbus series, she thought - it'd been mentioned in class, but she'd never seen one with any numbers. Nimbus 2050?

Extracting it, she carried it over to her backpack and came to a full stop. Sitting next to it was her jogging outfit, right where she'd left it, completely unaware of its status in wizarding society. _Muggle clothes._ It was true. They were definitely non-magical. There was something in the weaving, or the way the sleeves had been factory-stitched on, or the artificial, plasticy texture in the shorts that made them look of so much lesser quality than what the kids wore at Hogwarts. What had happened? Why did they look different now? Had she gotten so used to magic already that her own clothes were starting to lose their familiarity? Sadness twisted in her gut - she didn't want that to happen. She _liked_ these clothes. They were good clothes. It wasn't their fault they were Muggle. But there was no denying it, and if she was seen in them people would notice. The only reason she'd escaped it so far was probably because of her being with Kev and Ashley every time she went out.

Putting the feelings aside, she pulled them on. They were still a lot closer-fitting than her work robes, and Potter already knew she was Muggleborn, so as long as she kept out of sight it wouldn't be a problem - which was the whole plan, anyway.

With everything set, her nerves were getting going. She picked up the broom and left the closet. The chill of the tunnel immediately pressed against her arms and legs, a lot colder than earlier, and yet again emphasized just how out-of-place she was. A breeze came from the field ahead, and when she arrived at the exit she stopped to look around just in case someone was out there - but it was empty.

She stepped onto the grass, the walls looming around her. It was undeniably eerie. Being the only moving thing in the field she felt very exposed, and she crept along the wall, glancing up at the stone carvings and viewing boxes at the stadium's rim. If she was being watched, she'd never be able to tell. There were too many hiding places, and she couldn't keep it all in view at once. But she told herself it was dinner, and that it was a twenty-minute walk from school, and nobody in their right mind would be out here anyways.

She was alone. Even Zach had gone. Their argument was still playing in the back of her mind, as much as she tried to be focusing on what she was doing.

A quarter of the way down she remembered there was a magical flying broomstick in her hand and climbed on. It shook a lot at the start, bumping around in her already-sore groin, but as she weaved back and forth it warmed up and the ride smoothed. She leaned forward and accelerated, grass blades whipping and snapping at the tips of her boots, air blasting around her, the heat being sucked away from her unrobed body. It did feel like she was going faster - maybe the clothes were working.

Ten feet from the exit-tunnel she dismounted. It was gated just as the entrance tunnel was, but this was a lot more ominous-looking. Its wood was as blocky as the day it'd been made and greened over with lichen, and between its beams wound a bulky, rusted, orange chain tying the doors shut in an X. There was no getting through - but at the top was a gap, large enough for her to squeeze through.

Taking a breath, she strode over and picked out the space between the doors as the best route up. As soon as she touched the wood, her nerves sent her fingers sparkling - but she ignored them and made a fist in the gap, friction locking it in place. She heaved herself up, broom in her other hand, making it little more useful than a blunt anchor. But the chain was there for footing, and after a few more lunges and fist-lockings she clambered up on top of the slippery beams, all elbows and knees, the gate booming and groaning underneath.

Ahead stretched the dark, abandoned tunnel. She took a breath, heart thudding in her ears, then dropped. Her boots squished into moss and clumps of dead grass. She went quickly, focusing on the opening at the far end, trying not to think about how creepy it was. Every noise sounded a hundred times louder, each squelch of moss and steam-laden breath bouncing off the walls and amplifying both ahead and behind. As she passed the stairways the darkness yawned, and she looked up them, only seeing blackness at their tops. Was that squeaking she heard? Was there something up there? She looked forward again, and was just in time to see movement before her on the floor. Gasping, she lept backward, but found it to be nothing more than a brightly-colored food box. Ink characters twisted on its surface - there was a cartoon chicken, pecking dully at two wobbling chili peppers, their actions and placements far more sluggish and off-center than she would have expected - almost like they'd moved away from the rot to keep their shapes safe.

There was something disturbing about that. She didn't know what level of consciousness magical drawings operated at, but if they were alive, decomposing in a dingy tunnel was probably the worst way to go. Could she do anything? Throw it away properly? The fate in a garbage can probably wouldn't be any less gruesome. Was there even a humane way of disposing of ink-beings?

Not knowing what to do, she decided she must be overthinking things. This was just a take-out box after all, there was no way they'd put any considerable spellwork into it. Hundreds of these were probably sent out every day, and making each ink-character a living, feeling thing would no doubt be crazy expensive waste of energy. Reluctant, she trudged forward again, leaving it to decay. No matter how lifelike it seemed, it couldn't have been anything more than an animation. Like a gif. The only reason it'd secluded itself to a corner of the box was because of some spell to maximize its advertising lifespan. Or something. And the reason it looked so grim… was just because it was an old spell. That had to have been it. It was just one of the weird things about magic. Witches and wizards wouldn't create something like that without thinking of the consequences, would they?

She put it out of her mind. Arriving at the exit, she came to a stop once more, recognizing she was just one step away from officially stealing the broom. Before her the grounds and daylight waited, as ordinary and unassuming as ever. There should have been something to this moment. It was the first time she was intentionally breaking a rule since deciding not to do it anymore. She looked at the broom in her hand, trying to feel like she was doing something wrong, but the only thing that came to her were her worries of being caught and getting in trouble. What did it matter, taking a broom out? It's not like it was being used, and she was going to return it. But her teachers at Birch's had never seen things that way, and if Professor Smith was as strict as everyone said she'd be landed a detention for sure. Then it was just a downhill slope for her becoming a delinquent, and getting in fights, and people not want wanting to be her friend.

But that was only if she got caught.

A breeze swept over her, and she looked back at the grounds. To the left it sloped gently down to the muddy lakeshore, and above was the blue sky and wispy clouds. It was a beautiful day. Committing, she made for the treeline - really, people could do whatever they wanted as long as nobody found out about it.

The forest looked more and more Forbidden the closer she got. The difference between it and the grounds was unmistakable. There was nothing that resembled development or intent, no opening for her to enter, no friendly bark-chipped trail leading to some sort of manicured hiking path. It was saplings, brambles, and tree trunks, immediately thick and dark, the monstrous branches overhead blocked out all evening light after only a few feet. For all she knew, there was something watching her right now, whether it be wizarding owl or some sort of magic creature.

But what worried her most was a teacher spotting her. She did another check over her shoulder toward the stadium, and saw parts of the castle peaking out at its edges. Enough for someone to see her. Nerves rushing back up, she mounted the broom and planted a boot on the ground, kicking away the pull of the earth. She made for the trees.

Twigs and needles brushed her, pointy bits catching on her tights before tugging free. She rose higher, going about midway up, where it thinned enough for her not to touch anything. A strand of spiderweb caught on her face, and she wiped it away. Looking back, she saw the grounds already a good distance away, and there was still plenty of tree above her to stay out of sight. A few seconds later and the grounds were out of sight entirely - the forest had swallowed her. Worrying about her direction she rose again, just enough to see the pointed tips of the castle towers and orient herself, then dipped back down.

Around her, the forest was creepy and silent. The trees were bigger than anything she'd ever seen, and who knew what things could be hidden here? There weren't any bears or wolves in Britain, she knew, but then again, these were magic parts. It was good she had the broom.

Below, the forest floor was a wild tangle of bushes, vines, and darkness, tense and waiting. She was high enough not to be able to see the ground, or maybe the growth was just too thick for her to see it. What if the broom stopped working? The thought was frightening. If she got caught up in that mess she'd get scratched to hell, and it'd take her ages to get back. But that couldn't happen - the broom was handling well enough, and it was still around in the equipment closet for use, that must have meant it was still reliable. But they had broken things at Birch's. But that was Birch's.

The deeper she got, the more tense she felt. It was like there was a feeling in the air, like something was alive, but she couldn't say what. It was just... a presence, she felt, and it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. But there was nothing. Just moss-laden trees and more forest.

"Spooky," she muttered.

After another minute she burst through the trees and shot out over a break in the forest. Swerving, she came to a standstill. Were there buildings? Were there people? Frantic, she scanned the area, but it seemed abandoned. It was a long, muddy gauge in the forest, the ground barren of plant life, instead sporting the occasional exposed boulder and brown puddle. On either edge sprouted new growth, but there were also recently-crushed bushes and a few splintered tree stumps. Not wanting to stay out in the open she went back to the trees, then hesitated a moment before following it east, and hopefully, toward her jogging trail.

What had made it? It was far too unnatural to be part of the forest. She wove in and out of the treeline and spotted a well-trodden footpath meandering down the middle - so it was used after all. But by what? Did classes come out here? It didn't look like something made for students. It was like it had been bulldozed, only there were no tire tracks of any kind, and with the tension in the air the idea of something as regular as bulldozers coming through was laughable.

She kept following it. There was something familiar about it, she was starting to feel. Had she been here before? She couldn't have been, the only time she'd come in the forest was with Kev and Ashley on the jogging trail, and this looked nothing like that. Had they come across it, and she'd just forgotten?

Angling her broom, she pressed forward, wanting to see where it ended. She was careful to stay close enough to the trees that she could duck away at a moment's notice in case anyone was coming along, but it didn't seem likely for that to happen.

Another minute. Bells boomed. It was dinner. Right now Zach, Kendra, and everyone else were finding seats in the Great Hall and tucking into their food. Maybe they'd nick some food for her - her stomach tightened at the thought. She couldn't wait until they heard about this. Maybe Zach and Kendra would talk, and he'd realize how he was being an ass to her, and everything would be back to normal when she got back. That would be awesome.

Suddenly, she flew through a bright-green canopy and stopped, the back of the broom almost angling her into a tree branch. Had that been the jogging path? Turning in place, she went back. The clearance of the forest floor and the medley of bright barkchips and mud confirmed it to be true, and she realized why the gauge looked familiar - she'd crossed right through it! There'd been a patch they'd ran over, and now she realized it'd been an intersection!

And it was actually perfect. It meant all she and Potter would have to do is fly directly from the stadium until they hit the gauge, then go the rest of the way to the trail. It'd be off the grounds and out of sight almost the entire way. And if the gauge ran all the way back to the lake - which she guessed it did - there wasn't a chance of them missing it.

Rising above the treetops, she saw she was well out sight from the castle, its tower points even smaller than by the stadium. You'd need a telescope to make someone out at this distance. And from her vantage point, she realized the jogging trail looked like a ribbon against the surrounding forest. Rather than the overwhelming dark pine, the trail was lined with normal, leafy trees that were brighter and smaller. Furthermore, the barkchips shone through the in its foliage, almost making it luminous. She felt herself relax - it couldn't have been better. There was no way Potter could complain.

Keeping above the trees, she followed the path to its turn-around point, which was made obvious by a large, reaching tree. She flew back and forth, looking for any spots where the trail wasn't clear or anything at all that might give Potter a fuss, but it looked good. She figured they'd loop the tree before going back to the intersection, and do the whole thing a few times to pick the winner. They'd take the best three out of five. That seemed reasonable. If only someone had a magic phone with a stopwatch app… there had to be some magical means of keeping time. Maybe their referee would know, whoever that would be. That was something she had to do to.

She made four runs, then caught the bells going off on her way back. After a moment's hesitation, she went for one more - she'd only managed to do four, and wanted to round it out to five before heading back. Then it was along the muddy gauge until she peeked up and spotted the stadium (the spooky feeling in the air hadn't diminished at all, which she found odd), then back through the treetops, until the forest below gave way to the grounds. She dropped down through the scratchy branches, nerves rising, and made a wobbly jog back to the stadium as her legs got ahold of themselves.

How much time did she have to get to Gryffindor? She tried to calculate it. It was a twenty minute walk (so a ten minute run), then fifteen minutes up to the common room... ten, if she disobeyed conduct and jogged the halls... so that was twenty total, and it'd probably been twenty since the bells rang, making for forty. She might've even been over-estimating the time since the bells, as she'd been flying faster in the later runs and knew her way around the gauge a lot better. So that left her twenty minutes to spare - enough time for a shower!

Entering the disused tunnel, she found it a lot less creepy and squished the whole thing at a run. She practically vaulted the gate at the end, tossing the broom over and scrambling after it, impacting the grass on all fours. It was then a rough broom ride back through the field, this time going at a bee-line through the middle. Overhead, the sky warmed disconcertingly to gold, and thoughts of missing dinner and being back in the common room made her stomach clench in hunger.

She made the locker-tunnel. Stopping before entering the closet, she popped her head into the lockers themselves - they might, she realized, have showers in them. The first room was a tight, brown space, with lockers along the walls, benches to sit on, and a big field poster someone had left on a tripod. To the left was an opening into a dark, stone room, and as she went in jars blossomed with white fire to reveal a tiled bathroom. There, quartered off from the stalls by a wall, were showers, stone gargoyle heads serving as the spouts. Perfect.

Hurrying, she loped across the tunnel to grab her backpack (tossing the black broom at its cluster), then stripped out of her Muggle outfit and worked her way through the buttons. There were three: one for hot water, one for cold, and one that made a load of dry air come roaring out of the gargoyle's mouth. As she rinsed, she allowed herself only one thought, and it was about the instantaneous-ness of the hot water.

She figured it was either kept on-hand at all times, making it a tremendously wasteful use of school funds, or just one of the other wonderful and stupidly unfair things about magic.


	38. Peeves

The sky was scarlet by the time she left the stadium. It pressed down on her as she raced across the worn trail, flattening all the grounds, making the bouncing water of the lake seem black and still and the castle a hell of a lot further away than she remembered. The wind, however, didn't seem to notice, and it tugged at her hat, so she kept one hand flattening it against her head while the other pulled her backpack strap tight.

How much time had passed? The shower had gone quickly enough, particularly with the gargoyle drying her in an instant, but she'd still used some minutes tugging on her robes and shoving her feet into her boots. It couldn't have been that long - at least she hoped not. But the sun was setting, and she knew it did that right around curfew.

Once near enough to the castle she cut across the grass, heaved open the West Door, and squeezed inside. She made for the Entry Hall at a soft jog, heart pounding and keeping her ears pricked for professors or prefects. However, the halls looked deserted - just how late was it? Was everyone back in their common room already? Doubt swept over her. She should have made straight for Gryffindor after all. There were showers there, she could have used them! Again she tried to gage how much time had passed. It couldn't have been an hour since the last bell, could it? It didn't feel like that long. But there weren't any clocks around, and she didn't have a watch or phone or anything. Not that a phone would work.

Suddenly, she heard a voice coming from a branched corridor ahead of her. She slowed, quieting her breath, and listened: it was a cruel, sing-song sort-of-voice, and in an instant she placed it. _Peeves._ Her insides froze. She could _not_ get waylaid by him right now.

"...Little bookies, in their nookies, can't have fun if you're a bum!" sang his voice. "Nosies stuckies, in their stud-ies, you try and hum and they shout their lungs!"

There was no way to avoid the branch. Breath held, she crossed swiftly through the intersection, and thankfully he hadn't come around the far corner just yet. But his voice was nearing, and coming closer ever so quickly - she had to hurry -

"Poopy people just won't do," sang Peeves. He was surely in the branched corridor now. "You make one move and they all say shoo! Running to their poopy profs, little babies just sneer and scoff!"

Abandoning caution, she broke into a sprint. Ahead was the turn into the next hallway. If there was a professor there she might get some points taken off, but it'd be worth it.

"All of them cry, and point their wands... poopy babies, they're no -" suddenly, his voice cut off. She paled. " _Ooo!"_ he squealed. "It's a _firsty!"_

She whirled around. He'd entered her hallway.

Peeves was the picture of a squat, plump man, his proportions just a bit too cartoonish to be human. His clothes were the same pompous, fluffy outfit that Nearly Headless Nick favored, but unlike him, there was no presence of dignity whatsoever. Currently, Peeves was clutching his toes and upside down in the air, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Out a bit late for a stroll, aren't we, little Gryffinpoop?"

Instead of responding, she did just as Nort told her on the first morning of school - she ran. Behind her, Peeves cackled. Backpack jostling, she pounded around the corner into the next hallway and found it empty of adults. Worse, it was long. There was no way she'd make it through in time. Thinking fast, she spotted a classroom door and slipped inside, shutting it behind her and as quickly and quietly as she could. Maybe, if he couldn't find her immediately, he'd lose interest...

His voice came muffled through the doorway. She didn't move, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Running away, little brat?" came his voice. He was close, so very close. "You can't hide any professors under your hat!"

She stepped backward, not taking her eyes off the door. What were you supposed to do in this situation? She remembered Potter and his friends before Defense, one of them had even had his sleeve torn. What had happened?

"Hiding, are we, in a classroom?" said Peeves. "How naughty! Let's see, which one, which one…"

Without warning, his face came through the wood, bulbous eyes locking on her. She took a sharp breath and stumbled back, bumping into a desk and sending a loud screech throughout the room.

"Go away, Peeves!" she said.

It came out in a stammer, not at all like she'd wanted. Peeves's toothy grin grew even bigger, and he came the rest of the way into the room.

"Stay back," she said, swallowing and trying to sound authoritative. "I need to get back to my house. It's almost curfew, you know!"

"Quite right you are, ickle firsty," said Peeves. His voice was awful, nasally, sneering - "And what are you doing out so late, I wonder? Visiting your friends? Stealing food from the kitchens? Don't you know it's _dangerous_ to be off by yourself? Hmmm?"

He was making threats! Her eyes shot past him to the door, but there was no way she'd get there fast enough. A worrying thought came to her - that was the only exit. She'd trapped herself. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the straps of her backpack and tried to look composed. She mustn't look afraid, that's what her Mum had said. If you're not the alpha, you'll get messed with. But that was with dogs.

Keeping her voice cool, she stuck out her chin.

"How do you mean, dangerous?" she asked.

Humor fading, Peeves laid back mid-air, as if on a sofa, putting his arms up behind his head. Fear coursed through her.

"Itsy bitsy firsties," he said, eye on her. "And the rest of you. Think you're _all_ in charge. Travelling in little gangs, cooped up in your little housies, thinking nothing's going to lay a finger on you with professors around."

"You stay away from me, Peeves," she said, "I'll scream."

"Scream, will she?" he said, rolling onto his stomach. "If only there was someone out to hear you…"

Eyes widening, she took a breath, but in an instant he'd swooped up right in front of her. Caught off-guard her stuck in her throat and she shoved at him - but her hands went right through!

"You can't push a poltergeist!" he yelled.

The door was clear. She made for it, but had barely yanked it open before it slammed shut again, sending her face-planting into the wood.

"Running away?" he bellowed, voice right in her ear. His breath was like a dusty old room. "Insolent! Impudent! Un-mannerly!"

Screaming, she shoved herself back.

"You leave me alone, Peeves!"

Her nose stung, her cheekbone thumped, but she ignored them, eyes scanning the room frantically - blackboard, podium, concrete wall, desks. There was nowhere to go!

Peeves swooped around, nose-to-nose with her again.

" _Leave me alone, Peeves!"_ he mocked, eyes bulging. " _Do go away, Peeves!_ You sound just like Nastily-Necked Nick and the rest of those stupid old spooks!"

She shoved him again and fell through.

"HELP!" she screamed. "HELP ME!"

Weight dropped on her backpack - Peeves was on her. Her hat jerked down, Peeves pulling it by its brim.

" _Help me, help me!"_ he sang, voice shrill. "Nobody's out, didn't you see?"

"GET OFF ME!"

Rage ignited inside her. She spun and managed to dislodge him, but it took a second to spot him with the hat partway blocking her vision. But then he was in front of her again, grinning, and she swung at it his stupid face with all her might - but it went right through.

"You can't punch a poltergeist, don't you learn?!"

Yelling in fury, she re-oriented herself, but before she could do anything Peeves had grabbed her hat again. He tugged it down over her eyes. She couldn't see. Swinging madly, she searched for him, but everywhere he should have been he wasn't. It was like he was made of air! The hat pulled down further, squeezing her head, jerking and scraping down over her ears, her face, her nose, his laughter devolving into giggles.

She grappled at the brim, trying to force it the opposite way. But where were his hands? _What was she supposed to do?_

"Stop it! Stop it! HELP!"

"Help me, help me!" he giggled.

She felt trapped. She couldn't get a breath. It was like she had a child on her, but this was a grown man! Something started popping. The threads were tearing!

"Don't touch my hat!" she screamed, but Peeves's giggles only rose in pitch.

She felt like she was in a nightmare. Desperate, she thrashed, trying to throw him off. His feet slipped, his weight shifted. She felt him fall away her, but he pulled her head down by the hat - she was falling - her skull hit the edge of a desk - she fell to the floor - he was on top of her -

Suddenly, her terror and fury built up and burst from her in a spasm of magic. The hat popped from her head like a cork. Desks screeched and crashed backward. And Peeves - she was just in time to see him tumble through the air and smack full-bodily into the chalkboard, where he slumped to the floor, an imprint of his body visible in the chalk dust.

She heaved in breaths, eyes locked on him, pure hatred flooding through her body. She got to her feet, face raw and sweaty, eyes watering. She couldn't remember the last time she was this angry. Her hands shook. She was going to kill him. She was going to stomp his brains out.

He laid there. His eyes were shut, arms splayed out, groaning. Without hesitation she went over and raised a boot, then plunged it down right at his stupid, cartoony face, ready to feel his nose crunch, feel the squish of his pudge-covered skull, but it went right through.

" _Aaarghh!"_ she screamed, hitting the unyielding stone. "WHY CAN'T I HIT YOU?"

She stomped again, nothing. She stomped at his chest, nothing. She kicked at him and her boot carried forward, and she had to take a step to keep balance. She breathed, her face burning in rage. He was there, right there on the floor, and there was nothing she could do!

He squinted up at her.

"Oww, that hurt, little Gryffinpoop," he said.

"Shut up!" she stomped, voice rising to a shriek. "Shut up! Shut the _fuck up!"_

She sank her foot into his stomach, and his hands clasped around it.

"Bit of a mouth on you," he said, fingers tight. "Definitely needing some manners, aren't we?"

Her heart thudded, brain stuck. He wasn't done.

"No -"

"Ooo, yes," he said.

Upside-down, he shot into the air, tugging up her boot. She lost balance and careened backward, cracking her head against the stone.

"It's for your own good you know," he shouted, her robes falling into her face. "Proper discipline! Bad behavior! NIP IT IN THE BUD!"

"No!" she screamed, head blooming. "No, stop, let me go!"

He pulled her up and she left the ground. Her backpack slumped down against her head, hanging off her shoulders. Blood rushed to her face. Kicking, she jerked her body to break his grip, but his hands were too tight, and she was heavy and exhausted from flying and gravity.

"Let me go, you _stubby bastard!"_

Not listening, he began rotating, humming some mad song. The room revolved, air flowing around her, making her feel sick. She had to do something! More blood pounded into her head, turning her face maroon. What could she do? She couldn't hit him, she couldn't kick him, she couldn't do another burst - she didn't even know how she'd done it, and it'd taken a lot out of her. Sweat stung her eyes.

And then she realized. Magic. She could do magic, of course!

"I'll make you a deal, firsty -" Peeves said. "Say you're sorry, and I'll let you go!"

Her wand. She needed her wand. Her wand was in her backpack. Her backpack was banging against her head.

Upside-down, robes in her face, head thudding, she pulled an arm free and grabbed ahold of the pack before it dragged away along the floor. Gripping it tight, she pulled the front into view and saw the line for the main pouch. A small gap was there between the zippers. Arms weak, air rushing around her, she pulled it closer stuck her fingers in, spreading it wider. She felt past her clothes, searching - and there it was. Wood.

"Say - you're - so-rry!" Peeves sang.

Shoving her robes clear, she stuck her wand at him.

" _Fuck you!"_

A stream of red sparks sprayed him across the face.

Yowling, he released her. She flew through the classroom, and almost instantly smashed into the hard shapes of the desks. She went through the legs, metal bars striking the bones of her shoulders. She hit the ground. Her body folded over her and she somersaulted backward, bashing through more desks, hitting her shins on the edges, sending them toppling and slamming to the ground.

She came to a stop. Breathing, she pulled her wand out from under her and stood, using a desk for support. The room was spinning around her and the back of her head bumping. Peeves was bobbing there cross-legged in the air, watching her with a malicious grin.

"Sting me, stung me, little bee, shooting sparks at poor Peeves-y!"

Bruised, battered, vision thumping, she pointed her wand at him, hands shaking.

"Shut up."

"Ooo, she's got her wand now. Going to sting me again, little bee?"

He had to pay. He had to suffer.

But she didn't know any hexes.

"What will it be?" he said, as though reading her mind. "A paralyzing charm? A stinging spell? Some of you know those, can you do any of them?" He went upright, tapping his chin. "Or maybe something from your classes - if you've been paying attention, like a good pupil. But that doesn't strike me as your type. So what can you do? Turn me purple? Give me bogies? Fill me with slugs?" His smile was growing. "Make me dizzy? Put my shirt over my head, stick my tongue up in my mouth, switch my eyes with my ears, can you do any of those?"

"Be quiet!"

He was drifting toward her again. She had to do something. She had to think. What spells did she know? What had she learned? _Wingardium leviosa_ , lumos - none of those would work. She glanced at the classroom door - it was right next to her. She could make a break for it.

"Are you going?" he said, seeing her. "Going away? But you mustn't forget your backpack!"

Her breath caught. It was back in the front of the classroom, slumped against the podium. The next instant, however, Peeves had swooped by and scooped it up in his arms.

"What've you got in here, hmm?"

"You let that go!"

His smile faded.

"Still needing manners, aren't we? Insolent brat. Thinking you're tough, now that you've got your little wand with you? Well what's it going to be, hmm? _I'm waiting!"_

She kept her wand directed at his face. Could she _Wingardium leviosa_ her pack away from him? No, he'd probably hold onto it…

"Perhaps I'll leave it somewhere for you to find," he said. "That sounds fun!"

An idea came to her.

" _Displodosa!"_

There was a bang, and Peeves smashed into the ceiling. Her pack dropped, and she made for it, stumbling on her tired legs, but she made it to the straps.

Then Peeves dropped on her. She flattened.

"Lots of fight in you!" he cackled.

Growling in fury, she heaved herself off the floor, arms shaking, and twisted like a cat (wand scraping across the stone), and stuck the tip right in the middle of his head.

" _DISPLODOSA!"_

Another bang, and another drop in her magic. This time he didn't even go all the way to the ceiling. But not giving him a moment's chance, she grabbed her pack and went for the door, clambering to her feet.

Her pack caught. Peeves had it.

 _No._

"That's a fun spell you've got!"

White with rage, she turned and wrenched at it, but his grip was tight.

"Oh it's tug-of-war you want? You'll have to pull harder than that!"

She stuck her arms through the straps and clung them tight. But with unprecedented strength, Peeves yanked open the main pouch and ripped the edges, tearing it from her backpack. The pieces caught at the base, staying attached, and slung all her things into the air.

Time slowed down. Horror-struck, she watched everything spread like a fountain, fanning apart at the ceiling. A wave of helplessness washed over her, dragging her down, emptying out her insides.

Peeves was beside himself in glee.

Then time got going again. Books thudded down on the desks and floor, her cauldron bounced and gonged like a cooking pot, each of her expensive little vials and glass jars of ingredients smashed and sent colorful, glittery puffs up where they shattered. Her homework scrolls rolled to the corners, her parchment twirled and flipped in the air, and of course, her clothes flopped down here and there in little clumps.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. It was like her heart had turned to stone. She let gravity take her, dropping to her knees, and stared at the shredded remains of her beloved backpack. Above her, Peeves cackled something and shot past through the door, leaving it vibrating.

Minutes passed. It was only when the curfew bell boomed that she realized life was unfair.

She fell to her hands, trapping her wand below a palm. It wasn't right. It just wasn't right. Tears welled in her eyes, and she made no move to wipe them as they dribbled out and splashed to the floor.

The door opened behind her.

"I heard a lot of things -" the person paused as they took everything in. "What are you _doing_ in here?"

* * *

"It was Peeves," she seethed, not looking up.

"Peeves? Yeah, I thought I heard him. But what did you _do?"_

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" she roared, whirling on her. It was an upper-year Ravenclaw girl; straight, black hair, skinny, and a single book tucked under one arm. Ray didn't want to hear any accusations from her.

"I WAS TRYING TO GET BACK TO MY HOUSE! I DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS! I WAS JUST MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS, AND THEN - AND THEN -" her voice broke. She took a breath, but her throat caught, and she fell into her hands.

The Ravenclaw girl stood there.

"I don't know _why_ he came after me," she sobbed, shaking and smushing the tears from her face. "I don't know what I did. I don't know why he attacked me. I don't know why he was so mad. I don't know what I did to him."

The girl stepped into the room.

"Peeves doesn't need a reason," she said. "He's a poltergeist. He likes a bit of fun."

"THAT WASN'T FUN!" she yelled, getting to her feet. "That was scary! I felt like I was in a nightmare! I was so worried, I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know what he was going to do!"

"Well why didn't you have anyone with you? You're a first year, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Then what the hell were you doing out by yourself?"

Ray started to reply, but nothing came. She looked away.

The girl tutted.

"Always go with a group," she said. "Didn't mummy ever tell you that?"

"No," Ray spat. "And I've never had to before."

"Well... now you know."

Ray tried looking at her, but her eyes watered and she looked away again, face screwing up. She'd never felt that helpless before, that out of control - except for maybe with the squid - and she didn't want a lecture about it.

"And these are your things?" said the girl.

Ray took in the mess. Every item she'd bought, every thing she'd kept tidy and cared for was all over the class. Sniffing, she set to work, glad to have an excuse not to look at the girl. She picked up a ribboned homework scroll, collected her two spare quills, gathered up a splayed-out Herbology textbook. The back of her head throbbed everytime she bent over. She was all bumped and bruised everywhere from the desks, and her things felt unusually heavy.

Getting to her cauldron, she loaded her things in and heaved it up. It wasn't fair, she thought. It wasn't bloody fair. Stupid Peeves. Stupid _bloody_ Peeves. She had a hard enough time with everything as it was, and now her things were ruined, she was late, she was hurting, and was probably going to get detention on top of it - it wasn't fair! Anger surging, she screamed and threw her cauldron at the ground.

"Hey!" shouted the girl.

"Go away," she said, dropping her face into her hands.

The girl didn't hear.

"Hey, it's okay," she said, voice going soft. "Peeves is gone now, alright? No sense being upset."

But she was upset. And the girl wasn't helping. All this time she'd been working so hard to be a proper student, to take care of her things, and the universe didn't even want her to have that. Now she'd get detention, and people would think she was a bad kid. Everything was against her. What more did she have to do, before things started going right?

She realized she was looking at Kendra's hat. Going over she picked it up, looking at where its fabric had torn across her forehead. It had been hurt from this just as much as she had. Turning it in her hands, the straps fell out lifelessly, and her heart drooped again. Kendra had only lent it to her a week ago.

" _Here. Take this," she said, coming up close and tucking it over her head. Ray could see her freckles. "There. Now you won't have to worry. Looks good on you."_

" _Does it?" she asked, grinning and trying to see herself in the dresser mirror._

" _Yeah. It does."_

And now it was ruined. It hadn't lasted long under her care.

"Is this your backpack?" said the girl.

"Don't touch that!" she yelled, whirling around.

The girl had it lifted by the handle, its empty husk hanging. Lurching over, she tore it from her hands and hugged it tight, not wanting anyone else to touch it.

"I might be able to help," said the girl. "C'mon, let me see it."

Again, it took her a second to understand what she meant. Magic. The girl was a practiced witch - at least, a lot more practiced than she was.

Hesitant, she held her pack out, and the girl cast the _Reparo_ charm. The pouch lifted, all the threads squirming back together like worms. And not the good kind. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. The same was done for Kendra's hat, and then they were whole again.

"And how are you doing?"

Ray met the girl's eyes. They were dark green, and there was a lot of foundation on the sides of her face.

"I'm fine."

"Are you? You look in a right state. Is anything broken? Are all your fingers pointing the right way?"

"Why do you care?"

The girl bit her lip, then got down to her level.

"Look, I want to help. I know how it can be. I won't be able to do everything because I've places I need to be, but I want to do what I can. Okay?" the girl touched her shoulder. "I know it can be scary."

"It was."

And then her face screwed up, and she flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around the upper-classman.

"Why was he so mean?"

"That's just Peeves," the girl said, rubbing her back and pulling away. "Now we need to get you to Gryffindor, don't we? You know you're out past curfew, right?"

She sniffed and nodded.

"And now I'm going to get a detention. I know it."

"Yes, Smith can be harsh," said the girl. "But he is understanding. Meeting Peeves might be enough for him to show leniency. What were you doing out so late, anyways?"

"I just…" she thought for a second. "I was just out for a walk."

"A walk?" the girl sighed. "Always go with a group… you want to tell me what happened?"

In the next few minutes, Ray's things were shepherded into her backpack (the girl going around saying "Pack, pack," and flicking her wand), while Ray worked through her encounter. It had all happened so fast, she realized - she was coming down the hall one second, and the next her entire life had been destroyed.

"That's why you've got to think about things before you do them," said the girl. "So what, he put your hat over your head and spun you around?"

"And tore my pack!"

"Right."

It didn't sound like much when she put it like that.

The girl then put the desks all back in order (" _Arreglas,"_ she said, and there was a lot of screeching and scooting as the desks righted themselves and lumbered back to their places). Then they left, Ray following the girl from the classroom, clutching her textbook-filled cauldron in her hands.

The hallway was just as empty. She kept worrying about hearing Peeves's singing, but it never came, and with the girl there she didn't think she'd see him again. Him being out there, not a care in the world, made her anger rise all over again. It felt like she hadn't done anything to him at all. Even her explosion (or whatever it was) had only knocked him out for a few seconds. She hadn't even been able to punch him!

"Is he going to get off?" she asked.

"Who?" said the girl. "Peeves?"

"Yeah."

The girl laughed, and Ray bristled.

"He's a poltergeist," said the girl. "There's not a lot that can be done."

"There must be something!"

"Ask the professors about it," she said. "I've never bothered to find out."

"So what am I supposed to do if he comes back? Just let him torture me?"

The girl looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Torture's a bit of a strong word, isn't it? Just jinx him," she said.

"I don't know any jinxes!"

"None at all?"

"No."

"And you still fought back?"

"Yeah!"

The girl laughed again.

"You Gryffindors..."

"Well what was I supposed to do?" she shouted.

The girl considered her for a moment.

"Not have been out by yourself."

Fuming, Ray looked forward and didn't say another word. She would've kept arguing, but exhaustion was making her anger ebb. All she wanted to do was get up to Gryffindor and be done with the day.

They turned into the next corridor. Ahead of them was the Entry Hall; large, open, and waiting.

"It's lucky I was coming back from the library," said the girl, "not a lot of people hanging out after supper. You make sure you go with a group next time, okay?"

Ray held her tongue.

Right before entering the Entry Hall, the girl stopped. She went to a door there that Ray had never noticed before and knocked.

"You're not taking me up?" she asked.

"Goodness, no," said the girl. "I have to meet my team in the workshops. But I've had an idea."

Disappointed, Ray watched the door, waiting for whoever it was to answer. Had everything really gone back to normal? She was still hurting, but were all her things really put back to how they were, outside of her wasted potions ingredients? She studied the books in her cauldron - it didn't seem real. It felt like there should be something leftover that needed fixing, instead of her just having to go up to Gryffindor like nothing had happened. She was glad it was like that, it was a lot less work for her, but all the same, it didn't feel right.

Looking to the door, she wondered who it might be. Maybe one of the caretakers? If they really were normal people, she didn't know how they would help against Peeves or whatever other magical danger there was. And how hadn't she noticed the door before? She must have passed it nearly a hundred times by now, with it being right next to the Entry Hall. That aside... there didn't really look to be anything remarkable about it. It was a bit narrower than a classroom door, like a closet might be. The only thing that stood out was a sign up at the top, engraved with the letters "P.R.L.". What could that mean?


	39. Riley (Part 3)

The door unlatched. It opened a crack, then further, revealing Professor McDonnell. At any other time Ray would have been glad to see her, but at this point she was just wondering what further hoops she'd have to jump through before being safely back in Gryffindor.

"Hannah," said Professor McDonnell. "And is that… Ray Zoldik? What are the two of you doing here?"

"Zuwaldt," Ray muttered. The white-haired boy from Potions popped into her head.

"Just dropping this one off, m'am," said the girl (Hannah, apparently). "She had a run-in with Peeves. Missed curfew."

"Oh my," said Professor McDonnell, and to Ray's relief, looked understanding. "Just one second," she said, and glanced back into her room.

"I've got to run, Professor -"

"Right. Um - just one second!"

The door closed.

Hannah shifted in place, and looked down at Ray.

"You'll be okay here," she said. "I've got to run."

"You're leaving?"

"You'll be okay," Hannah said. "Just stand close to the door. He'll miss you if he comes back, but I don't think he will. Be smarter next time, alright?"

"Okay."

"See you!" she said, and set off.

Ray watched her pass the East Stairs and take a right before the Great Hall, going out of sight down the next corridor.

She'd forgotten thank her.

Taking a breath, she let it go and slumped against the wall, looking into the shadowy Entry Hall. Hogwarts was very big with no one in it. She was alone again, she realized. Taking Hannah's advice, she moved into the doorframe, and was just debating on whether or not to get out her wand when the door opened.

"Oh!" said Professor McDonnell. "Didn't expect you to be right there. Hannah take off? Well, alright. Come on in."

Ray entered and stopped, blinking. She was in a chemistry lab, much larger than the door let on. Music was playing from somewhere, and full sunlight streamed in through the windows. How was that possible? It took her eyes a moment to adjust, and when they did, she realized another extraordinary thing: Riley was there, of all people. He was sitting at one of the countertops next to a steaming black cauldron.

"It's you," Ray said.

He raised his eyebrows (but didn't look at her) and took a swig from his goblet. His face screwed up in disgust.

"I've been seeing you everywhere lately!"

He coughed - "Yup."

Her surprise fell.

"Come along," said Professor McDonnell, leading her to the back.

Feeling bizarre by the sudden change in surroundings, she followed Professor McDonnell past Riley and went to a desk at the back wall. It was faced a window, out of which… she found herself looking down at a bustling city.

"Have a seat if you like," Professor McDonnell said.

She was having trouble taking her eyes off the scene. Wasn't she in Hogwarts? Wasn't she on the ground floor, in an area far away from any population, unless you counted the little magical town? Tiredness forgotten, she set down her things and went to the window. It couldn't be real. It felt like a dream.

She looked down at the sidewalks. Pedestrians walked along in black coats with hands in their pockets. Shop windows lit up as they passed, trying to catch their eyes with colorful, personalized advertisements. She saw alleyways and electrical boxes covered in graffiti and stickers, cars honking at robot-brained, cautious-moving autos, drones sinking down and popping up as they made their deliveries. And on the gravelly, lichen-splotched rooftops huddled pigeons, awaiting the chance to mob around spilt crisps or abandoned leftovers.

"New York," came Professor McDonnell's voice. She was at her desk and working through a notebook with a thin, striped quill. "Woolworth Building. It's afternoon there. Go ahead and stick your hand out if you like."

Ray stared at her. They were only on the third floor or so, wouldn't they be seen?

"It's okay," Professor McDonnell laughed.

"Are you sure? Those are normal people out there, aren't they? I thought magic was supposed to be secret. And aren't there cameras and things?"

Professor McDonnell only smiled and egged her on with a nod. Completely astounded, she went for it, tugging up the glass. A wash of cool air, exhaust, and beeping crosswalk signals entered. What about all those laws, keeping the magical world separate? Surely a view right into a wizarding chemistry lab would cause some disruptions? She put out her fingers - but as soon as they passed the sill, they met an invisible, solid surface.

"It's an illusion," Professor McDonnell said.

Ray stared. She couldn't find anything artificial about it. Even if it were at the maximum pixel density, it would have to have some cameras to track your eyes and make the 3D effect. And it wasn't a hologram, either - she felt the barrier with her palm, her hand flat against the air. There were no odd light projections or anything unusual, and the surface was definitely flat, not curved. It felt like Hogwarts stone bricks.

Down at street-level, a man walked along talking loudly at his earpiece.

"It's so real," she said

"That's magic, for you! Complex and expensive magic, but magic."

A car blared its horn, unaware that the auto in front of it had stopped for pedestrians. Ray slid the window closed and turned to Professor McDonnell.

"It's not distracting?" she asked.

"I like a bit of noise while I work," Professor McDonnell said, and put her notebook aside. "And the light helps keep me awake. I have it set five hours ahead in the morning, and five back in the evening. And the scene could be anywhere, so long as there's windows - I had a brilliant tropical coastline and crashing waves an hour ago. Now... tell me what happened."

Ray left the fantastic window and cleared some gloves of the stool and sat sat. Professor McDonnell was waiting expectantly, legs crossed and fingers laced over one knee.

Ray breathed.

"Well, I went for a walk after dinner," she began, hurrying through the lie. "And stayed out a bit late, because I thought I could make it back in time."

"How late?"

"I'm not sure. I was in the castle before the sun set all the way, so I know I could have made it. But then I heard Peeves…"

Slowly, she went through the encounter again. Peeves chasing her down the hallway, trapping her in the room, threatening her. Even with the bizarre lab around her, her pulse still climbed as she relived the experience... slamming into the door, Peeves's dusty breath on her face, his shrill screams right in her ears… her words faltered, anger rising. Her hands were shaking.

"Hey, it's okay," Professor McDonnell said, rushing over and taking her hands. "You don't have to talk about it."

Ray met her eyes, trying to shut it all out. She felt frustrated, and tired, and her eyes were watering again.

"Was this your first time with Peeves?"

She nodded.

"And you were by yourself?"

"I know I should've had someone with me," Ray said.

"Yes, you should have. But the important thing is now you know, don't you?"

Her tone was kind. Sincere.

"Did you call for help?" Professor McDonnell asked.

"Yes," she said. "I did. But nobody came."

The tears came.

"Oh, love."

Professor McDonnell said it so softly, Ray had to look away. She didn't want kindness, she wanted somebody to get mad. She wanted somebody to take charge, like her Mum did. She wished her Mum was here right now.

"Don't think about it, okay?" said Professor McDonnell. "If you ever start thinking about it, think of something else. Don't let it stay in your head. Okay?"

Ray sniffed and pulled her hands away.

"Is there really nothing that can be done?"

"About Peeves?"

"Yeah."

Professor McDonnell sat back, and Ray tried to get ahold of herself, wiping her eyes on her sleeves.

"I'll talk to Professor Donarko. He might be able to get him decorporealized."

"Decorporized?"

"De-cor-poreal-ized. Make it so he can't manifest a body. Might put him out of commission for a few weeks. There's not a lot that can be done with poltergeists, I'm afraid, they kind of come with the castle. At a certain point, they're more of environmental hazards, and that's why it's important to be smarter."

"Hannah told me that."

"It's a saying we have in Ravenclaw. Do you know what it means?"

Ray looked at her wearily. Her fatigue was coming back and it made her head swim.

"Don't be stupid?"

"Not exactly. That's not very helpful, is it? It means, if something bad happens, learn from it. That way it won't happen again. And if it does, you'll be more prepared and can do things differently. Not making the same mistakes twice, you see! So what are you going to do next time?"

She took a breath.

"Have someone with me."

"Good."

"And learn some hexes."

Professor McDonnell laughed.

"Don't be saying that to professors! And oh, that reminds me…" Professor McDonnell looked away and spoke to the room: "Ten points to Hannah Hellebore, for the rescue of Ray Zoldik."

"It's Zuwaldt," she said.

"Oh, that's right, the other Z! I remember now. Unusual to have two Zs, isn't it?"

It felt like things were wrapping up. Behind her came a screeching sound - Riley had gotten up from his stool.

"Get it all down?" asked Professor McDonnell.

"Yep."

"Right, then…"

Professor McDonnell went to her desk and composed a message on the pink slip. Ray sniffed, feeling a bit more lively, and caught her reflection on the side of a large, dark jar on the counter by the window. She put some hair behind her ear.

"Oh, you're both from Gryffindor!" Professor McDonnell noticed. "That's a spot of luck, I'll just add you on and you can go up together."

Ray looked at Riley, who raised his eyebrows nonchalantly and went to study some glass instruments. They were going up together. She watched him, noticing his uniform was untucked, and that he stood at a bit of a slouch. What was with the potion, she wondered? Did it have something to do with why he was so tired all the time?

"Here we are," said Professor McDonnell with a flourish, and went to give Riley the note. "Tomorrow, then, same time?"

"Yep."

"Okay. Off you go!"

Riley went to the door. They were done already?

"So I'm not going to get in trouble, then?" Ray asked, hurriedly collecting her things.

"The final word is Professor Smith's," said Professor McDonnell. "But I think not. I've put a word in for you."

An flutter of hope rose in her chest.

"Thanks!"

"Of course! Now go on, I'll see you in class tomorrow, eh?"

Ray hurried from the room after Riley, wincing at the rawness in her legs. He was standing in the middle of the Entry Hall, and started for the West Stairs as soon as he saw her.

"Hey," she said, going up after him.

"Hi."

"What was that for? Do you have insomnia?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've got insomnia."

"I was wondering. Can I see the note?"

Riley took it from his pocket, looked it over, then held it out. Ray had to juggle her cauldron into one arm before she could take it, which wasn't easy with the steps, and it being so heavy. She almost dropped it.

"Why do you have so much shit?" Riley asked.

She looked at him, taken aback.

"Peeves ruined my backpack," she said. "Broke the enchantment."

"Hmm."

She looked at the note:

 _This message confirms Barry Bouvardia has received his dose of medicine on Tuesday the 16th of September, 2070, at 8:25pm, and is to proceed to Gryffindor Tower. Rayleigh Zuwaldt, First Year, is accompanying him and has missed curfew after a harrowing encounter with Peeves. The matter has been discussed, and it was confirmed that she was both fully intent and capable of making curfew beforehand. If there are any questions, feel free to contact me after 10pm via Floo, or write anytime._

 _Pr. Alice McDonnell_

"What's she mean, 'via Floo'?"

"Fireplace, obviously."

"Oh, that's right!" she said, remembering her trip to Diagon Alley.

He gave her a sideways glance.

"So, Barry Bouvardia?" she asked. "That's a funny name."

"Not as funny as Ray-league."

"It's Ray- _lee_."

"What is that, American?"

"No," she said, not liking his sharp tone. "And just call me Ray."

"Alright, Ray."

They climbed for a moment in silence. She adjusted her cauldron.

"If it was medicine," she asked, "why didn't you go to the Hospital Wing?"

"That's private."

"Fine."

If he didn't want to talk, she wasn't going to make him. They went up the stairs, but soon enough her bruises got her thinking about crashing into desks, and she heard Peeves laughing again, and she had to break the silence.

"So," she huffed, "why d'you go by Riley?"

"Riley's my middle name. What were you really doing?" he asked. "You stink. Like sweat."

Her pulse thumped, eyebrows furrowing.

"Well I was just attacked, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, there's that. But there's something else there, like you were exercising."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's a difference. In the smells."

"You can tell?"

"I've got a good nose."

"Well don't smell me."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Maybe I don't want to answer it!" she said, cheeks prickling. Was he really able to _smell_ that? "That's a rude question. And besides, I rinsed off, there shouldn't be anything."

A moment passed.

"So you were at the Quidditch Pitch?"

Blood drained from her face, and she clamped her mouth firmly shut. How did he know that? Could he really smell _that well?_ Was she really _that_ stinky? Cole's words came back to her - had she been taking showers wrong her whole life?

"It's not illegal to be at the pitch," Riley went on, as if nothing was weird about the topic. "I was just curious."

When they got to Gryffindor, she was definitely showering again, no matter how tired she was.

They got to the next landing, which was exhausting. There were two ways to go from here, that she knew of: the direct route, which went straight ahead, or a longer, second route, which went off to the right and tended to change into any number of paths depending the time, day of the week, or whatever other weird forces governed Hogwarts castle's nonsensical architecture. Riley went right.

"Why not go the other way?" she said. "Isn't it faster?"

"I don't want to bother with the stairs."

She remembered - the direct route had a narrow, spiral staircase that went up multiple stories. Usually they were easy enough to spring up at a run, but there was no way she was going to do that right now. She followed him, watching his slouched shoulders.

"So that was your first time with Peeves?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," she sighed.

"Sounded pretty rough," he went on. "He ruined your backpack?"

Annoyance crept up, as did the memory.

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

He glanced at her.

"What, were you fighting back, or something?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" she shouted.

They kept down the corridor. She was breathing heavily, and wished she'd gone up the stairs after all. Maybe Riley wasn't a nice guy. He might've just been a recluse, but now that she was talking with him he definitely came off like an ass. No wonder people didn't like hanging out with him.

"When I was in my second year," Riley started - ("Shut up," said Ray, but it came out as a "szchh") - "I was on my way to breakfast. It was during a week like this, where I had to take my potion, so I was in a shitty mood."

She didn't care.

"I was late," he went on. "And I took a wrong turn somewhere. One of the hallways had changed its connection, and it took me a while to realize where I was. I started to find my way, then ran into Peeves."

She looked at him.

"Legged it. Peeves chased, like he does. He's fast."

"Yeah," she said.

"I went through the corridors, taking turns, but he kept up. I tried to paralyze him. Cocked that up. Think I had my fingers wrong. The whole time he was laughing like a hyena, freaked me the hell out. I made a corner. He was on me, yanked my pants down. I went sprawling into a group of my classmates. Then before anyone knew what was happening he was off again, gone through a wall. So all anyone saw was me."

Ray didn't find anything remotely humorous about the situation.

"I already wasn't much liked at the time," he said. "And it freaked everyone out, me suddenly being there like that. And I smashed my nose on the floor. Didn't bleed, but it was broken, so I had a job explaining myself. Made me the laughing stock for a month. Then exams set in, and people forgot about it."

Ray's face was burning sympathy.

"Wow," she said.

"Yeah."

"Was that was your first time?"

"No. First time was in a crowd. It was between classes and he dumped a bunch of marbles down the stairs. That one was actually kind of funny. Got elbowed in the shoulder though."

Her eyes went hard in concern, but she said nothing.

They turned left up a stairwell, and somebody's cat got spooked and ran up and out of sight. They went after, the air coming down cool and damp, and when they got to the top, she saw the end of the corridor was open to the night. There was a skybridge, she remembered. On the walls were torches, flickering and giving the hall a medieval feel, and with the suits of armor there it only reinforced it. The cat was gone. Her cauldron slipped and she adjusted it, grunting.

"Give me something," Riley said.

"I've got it."

"Don't be stupid."

She hesitated, then held out the cauldron, and he took it like it weighed as much as a soccer ball.

"Thanks," she breathed.

"Maybe now we can pick up the pace."

"Okay. You think the route will be shorter today?"

"Maybe."

They walked.

"So, what did you use on Peeves?" he asked.

"Displodosa."

"What's that?"

"It's… um, kind of like _Wingardium leviosa."_

"How'd that go?"

"Not well."

He let out a bark of laughter.

"It's not _funny,_ " she said. "It almost worked, it would've been better if I wasn't so _tired._ "

"From your walk?"

Her pulse thumped - "Shut up."

"Fine," he laughed, and set her cauldron down. Bristling, she watched him. What was he doing? He went to a suit of armor and put a foot on its rump, pushing it from its alcove. Eyes widening, she braced for the crash, but instead the suit stepped forward and walked out a few paces.

"Woah!" she said, alarmed. "Is there someone in there?"

"Nope," he said, knocking on the metal. It resounded hollowly. "Now get out your wand."

"What for?"

"Just do it."

"Not until you tell me why."

"Isn't it obvious? Target practice. Can't have you trying to _Wingardium leviosa_ a poltergeist."

She wasn't expecting that. Curiosity won out over her exhaustion and she dropped her pack to the ground (homework scrolls and parchment scrunching) and pulled her wand from her pocket. Her magic, she registered, had recovered a bit from earlier. The feeling was slightly invigorating.

"Now, bounce it like this -" Riley said, demonstrating with his own wand (a dull, woody red one, about as long as hers, with a few bits broken off it) - "and say, _Flipendo."_

"What kind of spell is this?"

"A defensive one. Go on."

She copied his movements with her wand, excitement starting to buzz. Was this something he'd learned in class? Or was it something he'd picked up off the books, that the teachers didn't think too highly of? Eager, she stuck out her wand -

" _Flipendo."_

There was a pull on her magic, but nothing happened. But there was definitely a pull.

"You've got to be more forceful," he said. "And do it like this..."

He came close and demonstrated again. Riley, as it happened, smelled a little himself, but she wouldn't have called it a stink. She mimicked his movements, and once deemed sufficient, he backed off for her to try again.

" _Flipendo!"_

A bang sounded from her wand, and the suit of armor stumbled.

"That was cool!" she said.

"Try again."

"What if someone hears?"

"We'll just say there's a boggart in it."

"What's a -"

"Go on!"

Relenting, she bounced her wand. Now that she had a better idea of what the spell felt like, she thought she could manage it. This was exactly what she'd needed earlier, she thought. Aiming at the suit of armor's shiny chest, she cast:

" _Flipendo!"_

A sharp bang cracked off the walls like a shockwave and the armor burst into pieces. The metal scattered over the floor, each piece clanging, bouncing, and rattling loud enough to wake the whole castle.

"Leg it!" Riley said, scooping up her cauldron. Laughing, she heaved her pack and loped after him, and they didn't stop until halfway across the skybridge and under the night sky.

"That was so loud!" she breathed.

"Yeah. Nice one," he grinned.

Exhaustion edging back, she scrunched her pack against the banister. Above, the stars were coming out. A dull green band hung on the horizon, glowing with the last remnants of daylight.

"You skip dinner?" Riley said.

She gave him a wary look.

"Why do you ask that?"

"The acid on your breath."

"Well I didn't," she said. "And don't smell me."

Unfortunately, her stomach growled right then, and she blushed. Riley shook his head.

"Alright, firsty."

Pale light fell on them. Up above, from behind one of the towers, peaked the bright face of the moon.

"Hey, it's full," she said.

"No. Not yet."

Without a word, he started forward again.

"Hey, wait up!"

She tugged her backpack tighter and caught up with him. Riley was a hard guy to get a read on.

"So, what was that spell, anyways?" she asked.

"Knockback Jinx."

"It's a jinx?"

"Yep."

So she'd learned one after all. Douglas wouldn't be happy.

"Are we going to get in trouble for the suit of armor?"

"Don't think so. Either it'll get itself back together or some elves will be along."

His tone had gone sour, for some reason. She left him alone for a minute. Below, light from the torchlit corridors fell across a shadowy courtyard. A silvery ghost-lady came through a wall mid-air and left through another, crossing a path only she could see.

"So Peeves isn't a ghost?" Ray asked.

"Nope."

"Is he always so... angry?"

"Usually."

A worrying thought came.

"Does he go in the houses?"

"Not anymore."

She let out a breath in relief.

They passed into the next building, which was open and airy, and took a left turn to another skybridge. Riley's strides were fast, and she was having a hard time keeping up with him.

"He used to be able to come in," Riley said, "At least I think so. But they've warded them to stop intruders and dark creatures, outside a few exceptions."

"Exceptions?" she said. "Like what?"

"Werewolves."

"What? Those are _real?"_

"Yeah, they're real. What are you, Muggle-born?"

"I'm… I'm not."

"You're a bad liar, you know."

"I'm half-blood!"

"Okay."

"Besides, why would they let in a werewolf?" she said, heart thumping. "Aren't they dangerous?"

"Not if you take the right precautions."

"But why? What reason? Aren't they monsters?"

They arrived at a doorway and Riley came to a full stop. She almost crashed into him.

"Yes," he said, blue eyes reflecting the moonlight, "But they might also be a student."

His breath smelled of potion, and he wasn't taking his eyes off her. Uncertain, she tried to play it off.

"Well... that's kind of cool," she said, thinking of Jordan's videogames. "That's got to have some advantages, doesn't it?"

"No. It doesn't."

Riley tugged open the door and slipped inside, and she hurried after. It occurred to her that being a werewolf in real life probably wasn't that easy.

Inside, she found herself on a balcony, proceeding straight ahead. The building's interior was massive and entirely hollow, its portrait-lined walls lit by torches and a chandelier floating mid-air. Looking up, she saw staircases bridging the empty space, looking like the interior of a bramble bush, or maybe a spider's funnel. Movement drew her eye and she saw one of the stairwells moving about four stories up, its dull groans and creeks filling the empty space.

"It's like a god damn Rubik's cube," Riley said.

Glad he'd said something, they went forward again.

"Do you know any werewolves?"

"One or two."

"Do they go here?"

"No."

"Are there vampires?"

"Yes."

"In Gryffindor?"

"There's a half-vampire. If you look for her, you'll spot her."

"Is it hard, being a -"

"Yes," he said, cutting her off. "They're curses. Being cursed is not fun. Drop it."

Eyes wide, she followed him up a staircase. The portraits, she saw, were watching them, eyes disapproving. She was reminded of the ink-figure on the food box.

Suddenly, her foot sank into a stair. She fell forward and caught herself on the steps, backpack slumping to the side.

"Fuck, man," she said, arms shaking.

Riley thumped back down and grabbed her under an arm.

"Ow," she said, his fingers jabbing her.

He adjusted his grip and heaved her free.

"Thanks," she said, throat dry.

"Watch the stairs," he said. "If they don't look stepped on, don't step on them."

She looked at it, and sure enough, it did look considerably newer than the others. Its red carpet was barely trodden on.

"Okay."

"So, you interested in Quidditch?" he asked.

"Yes!" she said excitedly, urging herself up after him. She was too tired to try and figure out Riley's weird mood shifts, so she just decided to roll with it.

"You like Puddlemere?"

"Er, I guess…"

"Or are you with Ballycastle?"

His tone made it clear that was the wrong choice.

"No, not Ballycastle."

"You going to tryouts?"

"Yes! I want to be Chaser. It looks like the most fun by far. What about you?"

"No, not me."

"What? Why not? I thought you loved Quidditch!"

"Can't play."

"Why?"

"Because of my insomnia."

"Oh," she said. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine."

"What would you play if you could?"

"Beater," he said. "Or maybe Keeper."

"What were the balls again?" she asked, remembering the strange one she saw earlier. "There was the Quaffle, and the Bludger…"

"The Snitch," he said, almost frustrated. "The Golden Snitch, the ball that ends the game. And it shouldn't be hard to remember the ball names, they form the name itself."

"How do you mean?"

"Quidditch. _Qu_ -affle, blu- _d_ -ger, sn- _itch_."

"Haha, okay. So there's no other balls? I saw one that was flying away, like an opposite-bludger."

"Was it dark red?"

"Yeah!"

"That's the Fumball. It's got its own game, but it's good for practice."

They got to the top of the stairs.

"Is there a water fountain around here?" she asked.

"Yep."

They went down a corridor, and Riley showed her a small fish statue spouting a little fountain. After a moment's hesitation she went for it, gulping it down, feeling it rinse down the sides of her stomach. In one of the classrooms she heard a small group of upper-years having a discussion.

"Ugh," she said, when she'd had enough.

"Let's go, we're nearly there."

She wanted to peak in and see what they were doing, but decided to leave it.

"Okay."

Retracing their steps, they went back to the landing then went up another floor, before continuing to the southwest side of the castle. They suddenly found themselves in one of the main corridors, which Ray thought was for sure more toward the center. It was good Riley was there, she thought, she was ready to sink into an armchair and never get up again.

"I hope my friends saved some food for me," she said.

"You can always go to the kitchens."

"I'd probably get lost," she joked.

"Probably."

Was he being rude?

"Taking food is against the rules, isn't it?"

"Only if you get caught."

She laughed.

This corridor had a great view of the grounds outside the front of the castle. She could see the dark lake, the dirt road following around its side, and the small lights of the village.

"I hope my friend will be nicer when we get back," she said.

"You guys fight?"

"Yeah. It wasn't like him. He made fun of me, and called me annoying."

"Well you are kind of annoying."

"Are you teasing me?" she laughed.

"No dude, you're pretty annoying."

Uncertainty flooded into her chest.

"Don't be mean to me."

"Sorry," he shrugged. "Don't mean to be mean."

She didn't say anything. She'd had enough of people saying things to her for the evening.

They took a turn down a short corridor, then came to the landing of a broad, spiral staircase and made their way up. Suddenly, they emerged into Gryffindor Tower. It was circular. One path followed the curve to the left, leading to classrooms and the girl's bathroom (and shower); one went to the right, going to more classrooms and the boy's, and then there was the central hallway, which had spiral staircases to the upper floors in the middle, animal statues, and went directly to where all the paths met up again: the Fat Lady's portrait. However, this time there was something there Ray hadn't seen before - a ghostly, silver bird of prey, perched on top of one of the statues.

Wordlessly, they went up to it, and Riley held out their pink slip. The bird took the note in its beak, then lept over their heads, beating its wings, and silently flew up a stairwell.

"What was that?" she asked.

"An eagle," he said, and dropped her cauldron back on her.

They got to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"You two are out late," she said.

"Lion's Mane," said Ray.

"Sorry dear, nothing doing."

"Chestnut," said Riley.

The portrait opened, and a din of evening chatter spilled out.

"They changed it?" she said, following him through the porthole.

"Obviously. See you."

Riley made a beeline for the dormitory stairs as soon as he entered the common room, and she stood there, watching him go.

"Ray!" called Kendra, running over to her between the study tables. "You're past curfew."

"I know," she said. "I had a run-in with Peeves."

"With Peeves?" Kendra said, eyes narrowing. "What happened? You look alright."

"I had some help."

"From that boy?"

"No, it was… another girl."

"And why do you have all your things with you?"

She sighed.

"I'll explain later."

"Come explain now, we've got the corner of the room. And you need to take my place, Zach is doing Exploding Snap with Abby and some boys."

Ray looked past her and met eyes with Zach. He looked away.

"...And I want to try your wand," Kendra chattered. "I'm doing better with _Lumos_ but I still can't get it right."

"It's not my wand," she said. "But I will in a minute. I need to put my things away, and take a shower."

"Fine. But leave your wand."

"I will in a minute," she repeated. She wasn't planning on being alone without it. "Did you get any food for me?"

"Yes, I've got it in my pack. Come over," she said, starting back through the tables.

"No, I've got to go put my stuff down."

Kendra stopped and looked at her, eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?"

Ray felt everything welling up in her chest, and she wanted to talk about it, but was too tired. She might cry if she did it now, and she wasn't about to do that with everyone watching. She even saw Potter and Ellen looking at her from their table, but they looked away too when she saw them.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just tired. Let me go put my stuff away. I'll tell you later."

"Okay," said Kendra.

Ray broke off, and hauled her things up the stairs. She wasn't sure if she'd join everyone in the corner. Once she showered, she might just hand off her wand, get the food, and go to bed.

She passed the door for the mid-way balcony and continued up.


	40. Nathaniel (Part 3)

"Madblood."

Professor Byron paced the front of the room, looking from one person to the next over his puffy mustache.

"Mad… blood. A decidedly foul murmuring. How many have heard it?"

Down the row, Patty Havermire's hand shot into the air, her face rapt with attention. The rest of the students raised their hands too (including Maria, on his other side), and he decided it best to do the same.

"Unfortunate. Even you, my Gryffindor pupils?"

"Well, not in our house," said one of the boys. "But in the halls."

"Yeah," said a girl.

"I see. And how does it make you feel?"

"Confused," said the boy. "I don't understand it."

"Anyone else?"

"Awful!" cried Patty. "It makes me feel worthless, and crazy, and like nobody wants me there."

Beside him, Maria nodded. His eyebrows shot up - had it really been that hard on her?

"I'm sorry," said Byron. He came to a stop before Patty and put his hands in his pockets. "As Head of Slytherin, it's my responsibility to limit that sort of thing, but there's only so much that can be done. I've had the prefects double the point penalty... but of course they aren't always around. My office is always open, Miss Havermire, should you want to talk. Now! Who can tell me what it means?"

The three Ravenclaws all raised their hands. Everyone had self-segregated into their houses, except for Taylor and Bridget, who sat together in second-year solidarity by Patty.

"Miss Cole," Byron called.

"Please sir, I've decided that I'd rather just go by Heather."

"Miss Heather, then," he said, the edge of his moustache twitching.

" _Madblood_ is a derogatory term referring to those from a Muggle family, like us," Heather said. "It means our blood is tainted, and we're not bound to behave properly."

Everyone was looking at her. The Gryffindors, in particular, had sat upright in their seats.

"What, they think just because we're not from magic, we're mad?" said the boy.

"Mr. Maalouf, was it?" said Byron, drawing his attention back up front.

"Yeah."

"That is, Mr. Maalouf, more or less the idea. Muggles - that is to say, members of non-magical society - are often perceived to act in ways not fitting of a healthy mindset. Some witches or wizards see these actions and look no further, thinking that they are as much a part of a person's being as their eye color may be, or their height, or the color of their skin. They think, this person is a Muggle, and therefore they must be mad.

"Understandably, this is a highly controversial and debated topic and is given a great deal of discussion in Muggle Studies, of which you are eligible to take in your third year. For the purposes of this class, let it simply be said that we do not _know_ what motivates such behavioral differences. We are solely concerned at present with developing your awareness of them, so you may control them, eliminate them if you wish, and have an easier time integrating into magical society.

"Incidentally, Mr. Maalouf - it is important that you address professors and adults with 'Sir' or 'Madam' when speaking with them, as a show of respect. This is a cultural norm for children and subordinates alike in magical society, and you would do well to incorporate them into your speech."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good! Have a point. Also, Miss Heather - three points, for an accurate answer, and a point each to Miss Havermire and, again, Mr. Maalouf, for sharing their experiences."

Heather sat up a bit straighter in her chair, as did the other two. One thing Nathaniel had noticed about Wizardry 101 was that Byron was a lot more liberal about doling out the points than in History (or indeed any of his other professors in any of their classes). It would've been nice if he'd known during his forty-point-recovery week.

"Now, let us disassemble this gross term," said Byron, bustling his portly self over to his bags and lobbing a thick rod of chalk at the board (the chalk catching itself midair and awaiting dictation), "...so that you may better understand it, react to it, and learn how to avoid and prevent situations in which it may arise. _Madblood."_

The chalk marked out the word, its fat lines giving clear legibility.

"In fact, I think it best if we get it all out at once," Byron said, and considered the room. "What else have people been called?"

"Stupid," said a Ravenclaw boy.

"Crazy," said Roma Montague, a Hufflepuff girl behind Nathaniel.

"Muggle," said somebody else.

"Muggle-born."

"No-maj."

And then, to everyone's surprise, Taylor the second-year spoke up:

"Mudblood."

"Ah-hah!" said Byron, sticking a finger in the air. " _Mudblood."_

The chalk, which had been jotting all the names down on the board, wrote 'Mudblood' up beneath 'Madblood'.

"Perhaps the term with the greatest history behind it, only going out of fashion a few decades ago, near the turn of the century. Does anyone know the meaning?"

The Ravenclaws all raised their hands again, but Maria poked his elbow.

"You know that one," she whispered. "You mentioned it, didn't you?"

He might have... he did remember coming across it during his summer reading, but he wasn't sure when he'd mentioned it to her.

"Mr. Zoldik, Miss García, anything to add?" said Byron.

"It's -" (Nathaniel cleared his throat, he'd hardly spoken all day) - "It's a reference to the quality of one's blood," he said. "And your abilities with magic. It was used by racists - or purists, I should say. They thought that having families with normal people would reduce a person's magical content, resulting in blood so diluted that their children would become incapable of performing magic at all. There was a great amount of fear that this would be the end to magic entirely. The Death Eaters were an extremist group who took this idea and used it as part of their modus operandi."

One of the Gryffindor boys snorted and whispered to his friend: " _Was that supposed to be a spell?"_

"Thank you, Mr. Zoldik," said Byron. "Three points! In short, those with Muggle parents have 'muddied' blood, and are less magical. This idea was disproved by a number of tests conducted by a famous, ex-Minister of Magic (as well as a number of other things) by the name of Granger, and was campaigned against so strongly that anyone still going by the old modes of thought were immediately ridiculed and discredited.

"Of course, it still crops up every now and then, as Taylor mentioned. Although, this is mostly in older families - rarely in public. _Madblood_ is a direct derivative of this term. It faced a good deal of ridicule at the time too… thought to be little more than a distasteful and cheap twist on an old phrase, but as problems in non-wizarding society rose during the Dark War, it surged in popularity. But that particular development, as well as discussion of the Dark War itself, can wait until your fifth year."

Byron gave a pause, and slouched back on the teacher's desk.

"These other terms -" he gestured to the board - "they're nothing new, of course. Since magical society first started getting together in the 12th century, there were all kinds of terms used for reference to our non-magical counterparts… serfs, comlings, scrubbers, dirty-fingers… all derogatory, all separatory, all racial. Unfortunately, the reality of the situation is that there _are_ distinguished cultural differences between our two peoples, and for you who ride the brink, things can be especially difficult. Hence our course.

"Now," he said, and the chalk divided the board in two with a line, "there are certain traits profiled with non-magical people. Poor focus… impulsiveness… commitment difficulty… write these down, we'll be discussing them throughout the year… aggression… anxiety… malaise… it is our goal to _recognize_ our aspects in ourselves (for they do exist in all people!), and get them down to more… civilized levels."

The chalk marked the traits on the board, and Nathaniel scratched them into his notebook with his quill. Byron then moved into a lecture on _self_ and _interpersonal_ awareness and their practice (a topic which Nathaniel was already more than familiar with), and so he spent the time daydreaming. He imagined what it would be like to return to medieval europe with the knowledge and technology he had now, and what things he might do to set the world down a better path. It was only when the Paper Man clambered out of his pocket and hopped onto his desk that he returned to the present: alarmed, he scooped it off the desk to shove it back into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" whispered Maria.

He looked at his hand. The Paper Man was gone. Maria was watching him in bewilderment, and he realized the Paper Man hadn't been there at all. It was still in his wardrobe, back in the Hufflepuff dorms, lifeless and unenchanted.

"Nothing," he said quietly. He straightened in his seat. "Must have dozed off."

Maria gave him a smirk and a friendly elbow, and they got back to their notes. Not even five minutes later, however, the urge to daydream rose again, but he ignored it, putting all his effort into focusing on the lecture. His pulse was thumping - because that had _not_ felt like a dream.

* * *

"Zoldik. Zoldik."

Monica leaned across the workbench and slapped the table in front of him.

"Pay attention, ghost-boy!"

"Ghost boy?" he said, focusing.

"Yeah. Are you finished with the roots?"

Her voice was laden with frustration, and he hurriedly scooted the bowl over.

"There's no need to be aggressive," he said.

"Yeah? Well pay attention."

It was morning. They were in Potions. He'd been waiting for the thick, plasticy yellow of his brew to turn green, and must have let his mind wander. Monica was across from him on the other side of their work-island, Trip Weasley next to her, and immediately to his left was Ray Zuwaldt. It was the same setup they used during the lecture periods, and it worked well, even if it meant he didn't have as much opportunity to form connections with Trip. But having Zuwaldt and Monica separate was probably for the best.

Zuwaldt, unfortunately, had lost some of the ingredients from her potions kit, and asked to borrow his. He'd obliged as a matter of principle.

 _Always do favors if you can,_ said his father. _But don't do them too quickly. It can be useful to have people indebted to you._

Of course, he hadn't thought of that at the time. He had more ingredients than he knew what to do with, and Zuwaldt looked like she could use the kindness. His eyes went to her hair-band, and the little metal wiring showing there through the fabric. Not for the first time, he wondered just how much magic there was in her family. The band certainly didn't look wizarding-fashioned.

Noticing his look, Zuwaldt glanced at him.

"How'd you do the stir-spell?" he asked, covering himself.

Only a few people in the room had managed it, and she'd been one of them.

" _Misceo,"_ she said.

He knew that much. Professor McDonnell had given them the incantation at the beginning of class.

"Would you mind demonstrating?" he asked.

She looked at him a moment, then stuck her wand at his pot and cast the spell. Sure enough, the protruding handle of his spoon came to life and began revolving around the rim.

"Er, thanks," he said.

She went back to her potion. Not very talkative today, he thought.

Across the room Maria laughed. He looked over - she was at her work bench with her team; the charismatic boy from their house (Matt, she'd said), and the two Gryffindor girls making it up. They seemed to be having a lot more luck with the team-building exercises than his group was. He looked at Monica, just in time to see her slop some curdled orange sludge back into her cauldron, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Did you add the second round of salamander blood?" he said.

"I've got it," she said shortly.

He let it drop. Monica was always very curt with him, and if she didn't want to make friends, he couldn't force her.

Over the talk in the classroom he heard Maria laugh again, and he was just in time to see her give Matt a playful shove. She never laughed like that when they were hanging out.

"Distracted, Mr. Zoldik?"

He jumped - Professor McDonnell had come up behind him.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble!" she laughed. "How are you doing on your potion?"

He moved aside so she could see.

"Ah, the infamous yellow stage! Nice color, although your consistency seems a bit thick. Remember, wait until each drop of salamander is fully incorporated before adding the next. And keep your attention at your own station, hmm? Potion making is serious work, but that doesn't mean it's all business! Use the time to get to know your team!"

McDonnell went off to another bench, and he and Zuwaldt shared glances. Her potion, he saw, was even thicker than his, but it was a lot closer to the "midsummer grass" yellow they were going for, and there was a lot more of the strange, unnerving ambiance that potions gave off.

He cleared his throat.

"Does it remind you of custard?" he asked.

"Huh?" said Zuwaldt.

"Nevermind," he said hurriedly. That might have been a stupid question. "That's, er, an interesting wand you have there."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"It just looks different than other peoples'," he said quickly. "Is it unvarnished?"

"Yeah…"

Did she think he was insulting her?

"It's… just… more like what I expected," he explained. "When I pictured witches and wizards, before I learned about Hogwarts, I mean - and all this -" he gestured at the room - "being real."

Her expression softened.

"So you didn't know about magic at all, then?"

"Only in stories. It was always fiction to me. Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, The Boy from the Cave, that kind of thing."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You haven't heard of those?" he said astoundedly. "Well, I suppose if you're from a magic family -"

"I'm half-blood," she said.

"That's right, I remember now."

"I remember things like Grimm's Fairy Tales," she went on. "And the Sword and the Stone, they made an animated movie I used to watch, a really old one."

"I've heard of those. Those are _old,"_ he said.

"Me mum likes old things."

There was a pause, and Nathaniel looked back to his potion. What could he say, before it got awkward? _How old is your Mum?_ Definitely not. He could ask her what line of work her family was in, but that didn't seem like a question she'd take well to. Why hadn't he ever had a tutor for small talk? He knew there was a list of topics, he'd come across as much in his internet browsing… wasn't there an acronym? F.A.I.R? C.A.R.S? It was something like that, about safe subjects… family, entertainment, religion… no, not religion...

"You should be nearing the end of your Wobble-Aways!" called McDonnell suddenly. "You should be at the yellow stage and going a bright green any minute. If you're not yellow yet, raise your hand and I'll come over. Don't worry about thickness at this point. When you're done, pipette a vial-full like we practiced, and _(this is important!)_ have one member of your team pick up the Roles Worksheet from my desk. Now that we know which teams are doing what element, we're moving on to the work-phase of the term projects! Aren't you excited?!"

There was a general reply of affirmation, which McDonnell seemed to find quite amusing despite it being so lackluster.

Trip's potion, as it happened, was a colorless gray, but after a few minutes with McDonnell's help it faded to a green that matched Zuwaldt's, his own, and Monica's. Then they were in-line and waiting their turn to deliver their vials.

"I'll get the sheet," Monica said sharply, cutting in front of him.

"That's okay with me," he said, eyebrows raised. "Are you worried I'll mishandle it?"

She shot him a sharp look - "You can't be too careful."

His face prickled in indignance. Exhaling through his nose, he chose to let it go. A queue was no place for an argument.

A minute later they were back at the bench - there weren't any stools, so they crowded around his and Zuwaldt's side to look at the sheet. Trip read the paragraphs aloud, but instead of listening Nathaniel read ahead at his own pace. Monica, he saw, was probably doing the same.

The Roles Sheet was basically a task allocation and assignment memo. The introductory paragraph summarized the term project and the learning objectives, while the two jobs were listed beneath. There was the Researcher, who was responsible for choosing an appropriate ingredient from a given pool of options; and the Gatherer, who was actually tasked with obtaining it. It worked incrementally, with only one pool of ingredients available at a time before the next was released.

There were secondary responsibilities, too. Researcher had to explain why the chosen ingredient was appropriate for their element, and figure out where it would place in the ultimate recipe. The Gatherer also had to describe how to choose a quality ingredient from a poor one, and confirm their source with McDonnell before going out and collecting it. At the end of the term, everyone was responsible for the final brewing and essay.

Trip got to the end of the Researcher's duties and began on the Gatherer's. Nathaniel noted that Monica had, in fact, read ahead, and was now watching Trip, cheek-chewing in impatience. Zuwaldt was going along at Trip's pace.

As far as he could tell, the Gatherer had the easier of the two options. Either you ordered the item or got it from the school cupboards - simple. Both groups had some research involved, which he expected, and if he was already going to be doing some anyway, it made sense to just do the extra bit of work and go with Researcher. And if that was the harder of the two options, there wouldn't be any complaints.

"Sounds like a lot of work," Trip said, finishing.

"Well we have all term," said Monica. "And I doubt the work will be too hard, McDonnell's framing it so everyone can do it, isn't she? What roles does everyone want?"

She'd talked so quickly, Nathaniel doubted very much if Trip noticed she'd just insulted him. Catering to the average level of capability _was_ standard practice in generalized course assignments, but it wasn't appropriate to bring that up in a setting like theirs and talk like you were better than everyone. But he said nothing. It wouldn't get them anywhere.

"I think I'll go for Gatherer," Trip said. "That looks fun."

"Yeah, I want that one too," said Zuwaldt. "Looks loads better than staying cooped up in a stuffy library all day."

"Oh, of course, grunt work for the Gryffindors," Monica said, rolling her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Zuwaldt.

And now they were arguing. Sighing, Nathaniel crossed his arms and checked if the shoe-polisher had done its job that morning.

"...Well if you want Gatherer, you can have it," Zuwaldt said. "I'm not afraid of a bit of reading."

"You're going to have to, in any case," said Monica. "But as it happens, I want Researcher, so no issue with me."

"Then why did you _argue_ about it?"

"Because it's typical! Gryffindors always take the easy job, it's annoying."

There was a pause. He looked up - Zuwaldt had, apparently, given it up and was looking away in concession. It felt like a firework had just fizzled out. Were the Gryffindors really both okay with being insulted like that? He had to defend them, he realized, if Trip wasn't going to. Their group needed to be on even footing.

"Er," Nathaniel said, cheeks prickling. "How do you know that?"

Monica didn't look at him.

"We've only just started the year, Monica," he said, calling her by name. "How do you know Gryffindors take the easy work?"

"Because everyone knows that," she said. "And my brother told me."

"Well... I'm not so sure Gatherer is the easy job," he said, lying (but it was probably true, now that he thought about it). "I read it over. It looks fairly well balanced, and I think we can trust the professor to make the work even."

"You'd think so, but this isn't a perfect world," she said. "There's always jobs that people slack on, and this is one of them. I can tell. Besides, you can't have it, they've already picked it."

He grimaced.

"I'm wanting to do Researcher, actually."

Monica stared. He didn't care if he was making her upset - she was being impolite, and needed to check herself. Calling her out wasn't easy (mostly because he'd never had to do it before with people always trying to gain his family's favor), but it had to be done, or their cohesiveness as a team would suffer. You couldn't have an open dialogue if there was imbalance.

"Well that's that, then," said Trip quickly. "So now we just sign our names."

Nathaniel held up a hand. "Sorry - er, Trip - one second." He looked back to Monica. "I also wanted to say that insulting people isn't going to help us. We need to be a team."

"Who's insulting anyone?"

"You have," he said, face heating. "You've just called both our teammates lazy, and dismissed Trip's concerns on the workload."

"Listen, mate," said Trip, "I didn't mean to complain, I was just -"

"Why are you attacking me?" said Monica, cutting in.

She was staring at him, unblinking. She _hated_ him.

"I never said a _word_ to you," Monica went on. "And I didn't insult them, I was just saying it how it is. Do you two feel insulted?"

The Gryffindors looked at a loss.

"See? Everyone's fine. You're the one with the problem! I'm here to work. I just want to get this done, okay? Give me that."

She snatched the sheet from Trip, and scribbled in her name.

"I wasn't attacking you," Nathaniel said. "I didn't mean for it to come off that way. I just want us to work together, alright? If you want to express your thoughts about work ethic, you have that right. You're an important member of this team, and you deserve to be heard. But we _have_ to talk to each other and be considerate."

"Yeah?" she said, turning on him. "Well be considerate about what you say to me. I don't need to hear it, and I don't want to. I don't need you attacking me, so keep it to yourself. We're all here to work on the Roles Sheet. Are you okay with that?"

"Of course -"

"Then let's do it. I'm not going to waste time."

He didn't know what to say. Doing the work was important, but she was missing the point.

"You two, sign your names," Monica said, thrusting the paper at them.

He was losing her.

"Wait, I think we should talk about this," he said.

"Well you're wrong," Monica snapped. "Talking won't get us anywhere. We know what roles we want, now we need to move on." She shook the paper at Trip - "Sign!"

Trip took it.

This wasn't working.

"If we're going to partner," Nathaniel said, "we have to talk to one another."

"We'll figure it out."

She said it so dismissively that he wondered what she was thinking. Then he realized - she had no intention of working with him.

"Monica -"

"If it's not about the Roles Sheet, don't talk to me, okay?"

This was beyond his control. He raised his hand. The Gryffindors saw, but it took Monica a second to notice, and by that time McDonnell was already coming over.

"What are you doing?" Monica hissed.

"Hello, how is everyone?" said McDonnell.

He took a breath - he had to convey the problem without alienating Monica further.

"Are we still doing team-building?" he asked, keeping his voice passive.

"Of course!" said McDonnell. "That's the goal for this whole term, learning to work as a group!"

"So if one of us disagrees with someone else, we should talk about it, right?"

"Absolutely. But that's your job - I'm only here to help things along!"

"I understand."

Monica crossed her arms and looked away. He had her now.

"I was also wondering if we were going to be doing any more team activities," he said.

Monica looked at him, probably wondering at what he was trying to do, but he kept his eyes on McDonnell. The question was an honest one - more communication exercises would only benefit them.

"That's all I had planned," said McDonnell, "but these brewing sessions are for team-building too. That's why it's important to talk to your teammates!"

"Okay, thank you. I understand."

He was done. Hopefully, Monica would recognize him not throwing her under the bus as a peace gesture.

"And how are you all doing with the sheet?" McDonnell said. "Everyone know what roles they want?"

"Think we've got it figured out," said Trip, glancing between he and Monica. "Me and her are doing Gatherer, and they want to do Researcher."

"Oh…" said McDonnell, voice falling. "I'm glad I caught you. That reminds me - excuse me, class?" she called.

Nathaniel watched her. How were things going to complicate now?

"No two people from the same house on the same job!" she said. "We're here to get to know our schoolmates, okay? Let's have it one on one!"

The talking in the class rose in volume.

That wasn't good. It made things less complicated, but if he and Monica weren't partnering, she had even less reason to listen to him. That would make it even harder to balance things.

McDonnell was looking to set off again.

"Were there any other questions?" she said.

"One more -" he said hurriedly. He still had time to appeal to Monica. "There was some talk about the difference in work between the jobs. It looks like the Gatherers only start after the Researchers have done their part, does that mean they have less to do?"

"Ah, nice catch," she said.

"It was Monica who noticed."

Monica didn't look at him.

"I'll say this," said McDonnell, "everything will be resolved next class. There's a single, guaranteed ingredient across all the potions, and the Gatherers will be starting with that while the Researches do their bit. Okay?"

"Okay. Also, I was wondering if the Gatherers will be able to use the store cupboards, or just order ingredients?"

"Clever, aren't we? That'll have to wait till next class too," she winked. "But there will be rules to make sure everyone has even footing. Okay?"

"Okay, thanks."

McDonnell went off.

"So which of you is switching?" Monica said immediately.

Zuwaldt and Trip looked at each other.

"I could -"

"If you want -"

They laughed.

"You can take Gatherer," said Trip.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

"So you and me will be Researcher," said Monica.

Anger rose in Nathaniel's chest.

"Hold on -"

"What?" Monica said, finally facing him. "You think you can do Researcher better than me?"

"It's not that, I just haven't made a decision yet."

" _Obviously_. But one of us has to stay, and it's better me than you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's obvious," she said, unblinking. "You're Muggle."

"Hey!" said Trip and Zuwaldt simultaneously.

"It's true!" said Monica. "He's not from a magic background! Sorry, but I'm not sorry, okay? He'll have a harder time! I'm not being purist. It's just the way it is."

"You still shouldn't say something like that," said Trip.

"And why not? I'm not being rude about it. It's just a fact." She looked back to him. "You _are_ Muggle-born?"

"That's… beside the point," he said.

"Oh, beside the point? Well I don't think it is. You're Muggle. You're inexperienced, so you're going to have to deal with whatever we decide."

"Just so we're in the clear, I've done my reading," he said. "I've looked through the entire Potions book already. I read _Gathering and Storage_ , Professor McDonnell's own book, and it's reasonable to assume our ingredients will be from there. And I've already learned my way around the library. I'm _quite_ confident I'll be able to manage either job."

"Fine, you want to do this logically?" she said. "Until, what, four months ago? You didn't even know magic was _real_. You've never brewed a potion outside of class, I wouldn't think. You're still learning basic spells. You never grew up around our things. I bet you've never even seen a potion ingredient, outside your 'kit from Diagon Alley', and all the books in the world won't make up for actual hands-on practice. Think about it for a second. And really think, even if it's hard for you - do you honestly believe you'd be better at a job than me?"

He hesitated.

"And I'm not being purist, okay. _You - are - Muggle-born._ It's the truth. Even if you were as capable as I was at doing magic," (she scoffed), "it's a matter of experience. I want a good grade on this project. I'm not going to have someone less qualified doing a job I can do."

"I -" he stopped. What could he say? The bit about life experience might have been true, and prioritizing good grades was understandable. "I'm concerned at your attitude," he said. "You're being incredibly dismissive of me, and that is not good in establishing teamwork or a productive dialogue. While I do agree that I may be inexperienced -"

"So you agree?"

"Please, don't talk over me."

"Do you agree, or don't you?"

She was done listening to him. What could he say?

"I heard you say you agree," she said decidedly, and picked up her pack. "And I've already written in my name. So you're going to have to make due."

He watched her go to the opposite side of the bench, his pulse thumping. She gathered her notes, took her cauldron to the storage closet, then left the room.

On the bench top was the Roles sheet, with only her signature there on a line below _Researcher._ They hadn't resolved anything. In fact, their relationship might have deteriorated further.

"So…" said Trip, breaking the silence. "Wow, first of all," he laughed. "Are you okay with Gatherer, man?"

Nathaniel let out a breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay with it. But I want to be able to talk to her."

"Well," said Trip. "Sometimes there's only so much you can do, you know?"

His lips went tight. It was a defeatist mentality, but not wrong, per se. He looked at Zuwaldt - she had her arms crossed, and was watching the doorway Monica just left through.

"Bleeding twat," she muttered.

Nathaniel studied her. Why hadn't she said anything? She'd been a strong Muggle advocate last time, what had changed?

"Well, we'll have to keep working on our communication," Nathaniel said. "I agree with wanting to get a good grade, but…"

He let it drop.

"Okay, well, nothing for it," said Trip, and he signed his name.

"Are you going to be okay working with her?" Nathaniel asked.

"We'll see," Trip laughed. "But hey, at least I'm not Muggle, right?"

"Right," said Nathaniel, grimacing. "But I have a feeling that won't stop her if something different comes up. If it becomes a problem we can talk to McDonnell."

"Yeah. But hopefully it won't come to that. Here, Ray…"

Zuwaldt signed it. Nathaniel sighed and began putting his things together, trying to get his pulse to calm down, then when Zuwaldt finished, he wrote down his name too.

"So, I guess we're partners, then?" he said, as Trip went to the line for the front desk.

"Yeah," said Zuwaldt.

* * *

Things stowed, they brought their stirring spoons and utensils to the built-in sink at the end of their workbench and began cleaning them under an icy stream of water. The sink was large enough for both of them to access, and he and Zuwaldt stood side-by-side as kids bustled around in the classroom behind them.

He had to think of something to say. And he didn't want it to be about Monica.

"So... what happened with your potion's kit, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Got trashed," she said, popping the bulb off a pipette and holding it under the gargoyle's mouth. "Ran into Peeves."

"How did he -?"

"Tore it out of my backpack," she said shortly.

Touchy subject. Noted. He went for sympathy.

"Was everything ruined?" he asked.

"Mostly," she sighed. "Got the jars and glass pieces put back together, but all my ingredients were trashed. Except for some roots. And a jar of newt eyes."

Zuwaldt was definitely smaller than she'd seemed last class. He could sense an exhaustion there.

"Are you going to order a new potion's kit?"

"Ha. No."

"Why not?"

"Don't have the money."

So even magical families were poor. Maybe everything wasn't as great in the wizarding world as Mr. Stynes had made out.

"Well, I don't mind sharing," he said, dribbling some toad mucus on a spoon and scrubbing with a brush. "I've got plenty to spare."

"Thanks. Hopefully they'll have enough extras in the cupboard."

"I really don't mind."

"Well, thank you," she said.

It wasn't easy for her to accept generosity, then - but that wasn't too uncommon. But if she went the whole year only using the backups, she'd probably never make a quality potion. He wouldn't have been surprised if more than a few of them were expired.

"What if I clean, and you rinse and dry?" he said.

"Sure."

He passed her the spoon, and she loaded his side of the sink with her stuff.

"You know," he said, "maybe the school will reimburse you for your things."

"Hey, that's an idea!" she said, eyebrows raising.

Progress.

"It's weird to me that they'd even let someone like Peeves in," he went on.

"Right?!"

"You'd never get that sort of thing at a normal campus," he said, and passed her a chopping board. The water was so cold that he could only dip things in for a moment before pulling them back out to clean. "There's drills and things for intruders, but I've never actually seen anyone come along. Police would be there in a matter of minutes, and whoever it was would get towed off to a correctional facility."

"Well, there's no getting rid of a poltergeist," said Zuwaldt. "They come with the castle. That's why they're more of environmental hazards, really, and you just have to be ready for them."

"Cauldrons will be cleared in thirty seconds!" called McDonnell suddenly. "If you haven't got your samples in, do it quickly!"

Zuwaldt dropped a dried spoon on the bench top, and behind them came a _splunk_ and some shouting. Chase, it appeared (or Edgar, he couldn't tell), had dropped their sampling vial into their potion. McDonnell was there in a matter of seconds, tapping the side of the cauldron with her wand and shooting the vial back into the air for her to grab.

"Those guys," Nathaniel laughed, as McDonnell scolded them.

"I know them - they were on the train," said Zuwaldt.

Trip came back to their table.

"Pass me your things," Nathaniel said. "I can take care of them."

"Oh, thanks man," said Trip, loading him with his spoon, scales, knife, and chopping board. "I'll write Monica about the homework, shall I?"

"There's homework?" Zuwaldt asked.

"Four inches on Wobble-Aways and how they help with flying, or when you're sick. Your choice."

"That's not bad."

Nathaniel got to scrubbing Trip's things (he'd figured since he was already in-motion it would be more efficient just to keep going, and it didn't hurt to curry favor). Meanwhile, Trip scribbled out a few lines in his writer, and he saw Zuwaldt glance at him. She must feel pretty out of things, Nathaniel thought, being without a writer. That was probably her family's poverty to blame again. What did their economic inequality look like, he wondered? He thought of the teardrop-shaped diagram one of his teachers had shown him. Maybe there was a book in the library.

Trip closed his writer and the Group Page _thunk-_ ed in Nathaniel's pocket. He made no move to acknowledge it, however, instead feigning solidarity with Zuwaldt and finishing up the washing. By the time Trip returned from stowing his cauldron away, they were only just lugging their own ones off the bench top.

"Oh, you're not taking your cauldron?" said Trip. "What happened to your backpack?"

"Broke," said Zuwaldt. "Peeves."

"Ah, that's a shame. Those extension charms are expensive. Are you getting another?"

"Nope. But it's no big deal," she said. "None of my friends have them, and they get along fine."

"Still a bummer, though. Sorry to hear that. Well, see you Creatures, eh?"

"Yeah, bye!"

Trip said bye to Nathaniel too, then left the room. Zuwaldt, he'd noticed, was a little brighter when talking to Trip.

They made their way to the Student Storage Closet, funneling in with the rest of the class. It was slow going, and yet again, he had to think of something to say.

"So, did you have your backpack under warranty?"

"Naw," she laughed, and blew some of her hair out of her face. "But it's fine."

They squeezed their way over to their cubbies, which were the last ones on the floor in the corner. Nathaniel loaded his in next to Monica's, leaving the last one clear for Zuwaldt. Monica, he realized, had left before McDonnell had cleared the potions.

"How'd she empty hers?"

"Cast a spell. You didn't see?"

"No, I was still thinking about everything she said."

Zuwaldt's cauldron had a sizeable dent, he noticed.

"What a tremendous bitch," she said, standing.

One of the nearby kids let out a hoot in surprise.

"Well everyone's got things to work on," he said, as they shuffled back to the classroom. "Hey, er - are you alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"You just seem... out of sorts. I thought you were going to have some strong words for Monica earlier."

She let out a laugh.

"Yeah, I should've. But no, I'm fine, just didn't sleep well. Why do you ask?"

"Just…" he searched for the word. "Curious. No reason."

They got to the doorway, and he saw a group of kids waiting there. One of them was a girl he'd shared the compartment with on the train - Abigail Crosswater, he remembered. Zuwaldt, he saw, was making for them.

"Well, see you next time," he said.

"See you, Nate."

"Have a better one."

But she'd already melded in with the group.

* * *

Suddenly, someone knocked his elbow from behind.

"Oye, Nathaniel!"

It was Maria. Matt and another girl were with her.

"Hi," he said.

"You're Nathaniel?" said Matt.

"Nathaniel Zoldik," he said, and shook his hand.

"Matthew Choi," he laughed. "And this is Lotta."

"Charlotte Celosia," she said, and they shook hands too, which she also found amusing.

Choi and Celosia, he noted - nothing he recognized.

"But yeah, call me Lotta!" she went on. "Do you know what, er -"

She blushed and looked away, covering her mouth.

"Please, ask," he said, and picked up his pack. He thought he might already know what the question was.

"I'm so sorry, it's probably impolite - but, what happened to your hair?"

"Ah, that," he smiled. "I get that a lot. It's from my father."

"Your father enchanted you?" she said, astounded.

"No - he's not a wizard. I'm from a Muggle family."

There was a stutter, their expressions freezing for the briefest of moments.

"That's right, Maria mentioned that," said Matt, picking it back up.

"Right, that's totally cool," said Lotta. "I was thinking you were possessed by spirits or something, and that's why people call you ghost-boy."

"Can that happen?"

"I've never heard of it happening," said Matt, looking at Lotta with an amused expression.

"Do they call me ghost-boy?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yeah. Haven't you heard it?" said Lotta.

"Only today."

"Someone called you that on Monday!" said Maria.

"Did they?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, I guess I didn't hear them. I'm not sure what it means either. It might be because I talk with the Friar a lot, but I suppose my hair makes sense too."

"Yeah, maybe," said Lotta.

He started for the door, leading everyone.

"So, you guys are both Muggle-born?" Lotta went on. "That's so interesting! My friend's aunt is dating a Muggle!"

"Is that right?" he said. Matt ended up falling in line next to him.

"Yeah! So are you and Maria cousins, or something?"

" _What?"_ Maria said (Nathaniel heard her slap her chest) - "I'm _brown!"_

Matt burst into laughter, and Nathaniel turned to see Lotta's face going red as she hurried out apologies: "I'm sorry - I was just - I didn't think -"

"It's fine," Maria laughed, and she shared a look with Nathaniel that he couldn't help but smile at.

"How was that girl today, Nathaniel?" she asked, as they entered the bleak, portrait-less corridor.

"We're still having communication difficulties. But hopefully they'll get ironed out before too long."

"I heard her talking," said Lotta. "I don't know how she ended up in Hufflepuff! Aren't we supposed to be about friendliness, or something? That's what my parents said."

"What sort of work do your parents do?" said Nathaniel.

"Huh? Er... my dad's with the Floo Network, and my mum does book ordering."

"Those sound like interesting jobs."

"Yeah," she laughed.

The Floo Network was part of the Ministry of Magic, he knew… maybe Lotta was someone worth knowing.

"Who'd you get for your Roles partner, Nathaniel?" said Maria.

"Ray Zuwaldt. She's the one who had the incident with the squid."

"I know about her," said Matt. "She's loud!"

"She can be."

"I got Anna Higgs," said Maria, as they started up the steps to the Entry Hall. "We actually have a lot in common. Oh, I'm so glad to be out of these dungeons!" she said, as sunlight of the Hall fell over them. "It's so gloomy down there!"

"What about all those fresh-air flowers Professor McDonnell put in?" said Lotta.

"Those are nice! But it's still dreary."

They talked, getting to know one another, all the way to Charms. However, the Charms room wasn't much better than the dungeons - it had been set up as it was during their practical _Lumos_ sessions; torches extinguished, windows blanketed, with the only light being what came in through the hallway doors and the jars of white fire on the tables.

Unlike in previous sessions, each jar was interspersed with a severely wilted plant, which swelled to life as soon as the jars extinguished. They were practicing a low-light version of _Lumos_ today _(Lumos lunam)_ , which was soft enough to not make the nocturnal plants wither. Apparently, it could be used during their Astronomy lessons once they figured out how to add a warm color.

Nathaniel spent the better part of fifty minutes trying to manage it, but once he did, he found it oddly relaxing. He cast it again and again, letting his wand tip wander over the leaves for the rest of class - they only showed the slightest discomfort when he brought the tip next to them, and it was fascinating seeing a plant react like an animal might. It almost gave it a personality.

"You really liked that spell," said Maria, as they went to lunch.

"It _is_ pretty nice once you get it," said Matt. "That was frustrating at the start, though!"

"I kept accidentally casting Lumos," said Lotta.

"You and everyone else," said Matt.

"I felt bad about it! It looked like I was hurting them!"

After lunch it was Defense, then Creatures, and an Astronomy lecture. Matt and Lotta ended up spending the rest of the day with them, which worked out well, actually - he'd always struggled to create the amount of conversation Maria wanted, and with them there his deficiencies were more than made up for. He could sit back and let everyone talk, offering a word or two if needed, but otherwise just listen and enjoy their company, which he found much more comfortable.

At the end of the day, they returned to Hufflepuff, which had lost all of its relaxing appeal. The big barrel lid was stuck wide-open, as it had been all week (he wouldn't have been surprised if everyone in the school knew where it was at this point), but that might have been the entire idea: with Professor Donarko forbidding the congregation of house members anywhere in the castle (outside of the upper-year workshops), it seemed he'd made Hufflepuff open-access for all students.

The common room had even been expanded, despite it already being doubly-large for the house's population, and yet there were scarcely any tables or armchairs left unoccupied. Nathaniel could see the reasoning behind it… with Hufflepuff playing host to the entire school, it gave a sense of pride to its members, and therefore, unity. He wasn't sure how Professor Donarko had stopped fights from breaking out, particularly between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, who far outnumbered whatever Ravenclaws were there… perhaps it was just because it was Professor Donarko. Or, more likely, it was due to some additional wards he'd cast that automatically instituted preventative measures - he thought of the first night of school, when Adam Mills had been silenced without a word.

With no other option, he, Maria, Matt, and Lotta went down the few steps from the walkway and wove their way through the multi-colored crowd. They passed girls in scarfs and witch-hats, boys with rats and whirling wizard toys, they even paused as an owl swooped past them from a recently installed window (how the window led to the outside, Nathaniel had no idea.)

Soon enough, they spotted a congregation of fellow first-years at three tables in the center of the room, which tended to be the least-wanted, and therefore, normal meeting space. Jarod was there, waving at them to get their attention. Nathaniel noticed immediately that there were open armchairs nearby, and he made straight for them as soon as they arrived.

"Really?" said Maria, with a confused smile he'd become familiar with.

"I'll be there in a minute, I just want to sit down for a second," he said.

She left him there, and sighing, he tried to relax, looking through the crowd.

Open-house Hufflepuff. How on earth was a person was supposed to get a break in this mess? He got tired enough being bumped about all day between classes and the Great Hall, not to mention having to maintain conversations and participate in class activities on top of it. Where could he go now? There were the dorms, but it wasn't like he could get any work done there, especially if Chase and Edgar were around. Perhaps he'd just have to get a magic hat that muffled out background noise. They had to have those.

Even the portraits along the wall didn't sit still - their occupants moved freely from one frame to the next, changing in style and design depending on the artist. He watched a knight charge through several of these on his fat pony, causing absolute bedlam, which Nathaniel barely heard over the talking of the students. All the commotion came to a stop in a portrait of what he thought might be water-nymphs, where the knight hopped off his pony and immediately began trying to woo.

Nathaniel looked away. A moment passed, and he realized he was staring right at Monica, who was at a table across the room talking with a Ravenclaw boy. Adrenaline trickled into his veins. He'd have to face her eventually, he knew. How could he approach her next time? How would he persuade her of his capability, or make her talk to him? Was it even possible?

And what would she'd say if she saw him there, neglecting his homework? He averted his eyes, and Byron's Muggle lecture came back to him. Would she call him lazy, or absent-minded, or unfocused? Did she see those stereotypes when she looked at him? _Commitment difficulties… poor focus… malaise…_ at the moment, he might've been guilty of it. But he was resting. Nobody could be expected to perform at full capacity non-stop. And it shouldn't be of any concern of hers, either - this was what worked for him, and who was she to tell him how to live his life? Everybody needed a break. Everyone was different, whether you were magical or not.

Movement on his armchair caught his eye, and he jerked his arm back - but instead of a white rat (as he'd thought), he saw the Paper Man sitting there. Pulse rising, he pushed himself upright in his seat - but the Paper Man made no move, remaining there on the armrest with its legs dangling innocently off the edge, looking out toward Monica as he'd just been a moment earlier.

It couldn't be there. He knew it couldn't be there. He blinked, he rubbed his eyes... and it was gone. But no relief came. His breath remained caught in his chest, and it was only when his heart began thumping that he let it out.

He picked up his pack and went to join everyone at the table.


End file.
